NRLF 


B   14   b^fl   ODD 


V         3 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S 
CLIENT 


AND   SOME    OTHER  PEOPLE 


BY 


BRET   HARTE 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 

(Cbe  ftitoersi&e  $res&  CamBribge 

1892 


Copyright,  1892, 
BY  BRET  HARTE. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


CONTENTS. 


COLONEL.  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT  ....  1 
THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN  ...  75 

A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS" 108 

JOHNSON'S  "  OLD  WOMAN  " 148 

THE  NEW  ASSISTANT  AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL  175 
IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT  ....  215 
A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON  .  .  .  .243 
OUT  OF  A  PIONEER'S  TRUNK  ....  255 
THE  GHOSTS  OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE  .  .  .  268 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IT  may  be  remembered  that  it  was  the 
habit  of  that  gallant  "  war-horse "  of  the 
Calaveras  democracy,  Colonel  Starbottle,  at 
the  close  of  a  political  campaign,  to  return 
to  his  original  profession  of  the  Law.  Per- 
haps it  could  not  be  called  a  peaceful  retire- 
ment. The  same  fiery  -  tongued  eloquence 
and  full-breasted  chivalry  which  had  in  turns 
thrilled  and  overawed  freemen  at  the  polls 
were  no  less  fervid  and  embattled  before  a 
jury.  Yet  the  Colonel  was  counsel  for  two 
or  three  pastoral  Ditch  companies  and  cer- 
tain bucolic  corporations,  and  although  he 
managed  to  import  into  the  simplest  question 
of  contract  more  or  less  abuse  of  opposing 
counsel,  and  occasionally  mingled  precedents 
of  law  with  antecedents  of  his  adversary,  his 
legal  victories  were  seldom  complicated  by 
bloodshed.  He  was  only  once  shot  at  by  a 


2          COLONEL   STAR  BOTTLE*  8   CLIENT. 

free-handed  judge,  and  twice  assaulted  by 
an  over-sensitive  litigant.  Nevertheless,  it 
was  thought  merely  prudent,  while  prepar- 
ing the  papers  in  the  well  known  case  of 
"  The  Arcadian  Shepherds'  Association  of 
Tuolumne  versus  the  Kedron  Vine  and  Fig 
Tree  Growers  of  Calaveras,"  that  the  Colo- 
nel should  seek  with  a  shotgun  the  seclu- 
sion of  his  partner's  law  office  in  the  sylvan 
outskirts  of  Rough  and  Ready  for  that  com- 
plete rest  and  serious  preoccupation  which 
Marysville  could  not  afford. 

It  was  an  exceptionally  hot  day.  The 
painted  shingles  of  the  plain  wooden  one- 
storied  building  in  which  the  Colonel  sat 
were  warped  and  blistering  in  the  direct  rays 
of  the  fierce,  untempered  sun.  The  tin  sign 
bearing  the  dazzling  legend,  "  Starbottle  and 
Bungstarter,  Attorneys  and  Counselors," 
glowed  with  an  insufferable  light ;  the  two 
pine-trees  still  left  in  the  clearing  around 
the  house,  ineffective  as  shade,  seemed  only 
to  have  absorbed  the  day-long  heat  through 
every  scorched  and  crisp  twig  and  fibre,  to 
radiate  it  again  with  the  pungent  smell  of  a 
slowly  smouldering  fire  ;  the  air  was  motion- 
less yet  vibrating  in  the  sunlight ;  on  distant 
shallows  the  half -dried  river  was  flashing  and 
intolerable. 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.          3 

Seated  in  a  wooden  armchair  before  a 
table  covered  with  books  and  papers,  yet 
with  that  apparently  haughty  attitude  to- 
wards it  affected  by  gentlemen  of  abdominal 
fullness,  Colonel  Starbottle  supported  him- 
self with  one  hand  grasping  the  arm  of  his 
chair  and  the  other  vigorously  plying  a  huge 
palm-leaf  fan.  He  was  perspiring  freely. 
He  had  taken  off  his  characteristic  blue 
frock-coat,  waistcoat,  cravat,  and  collar,  and, 
stripped  only  to  his  ruffled  shirt  and  white 
drill  trousers,  presented  the  appearance  from 
the  opposite  side  of  the  table  of  having 
hastily  risen  to  work  in  his  nightgown.  A 
glass  with  a  thin  sediment  of  sugar  and  lem- 
on-peel remaining  in  it  stood  near  his  elbow. 
Suddenly  a  black  shadow  fell  on  the  staring, 
uncarpeted  hall.  It  was  that  of  a  stranger 
who  had  just  entered  from  the  noiseless  dust 
of  the  deserted  road.  The  Colonel  cast  a 
rapid  glance  at  his  sword-cane,  which  lay  on 
the  table. 

But  the  stranger,  although  sallow  and 
morose-looking,  was  evidently  of  pacific  in- 
tent. He  paused  on  the  threshold  in  a  kind 
of  surly  embarrassment. 

"  I  reckon  this  is  Colonel  Starbottle,"  he 
said  at  last,  glancing  gloomily  round  him,  as 


4          COLONEL   STARROTTL&S   CLIENT. 

if  the  interview  was  not  entirely  of  his  own 
seeking.  "  Well,  I  've  seen  you  often  enough, 
though  you  don't  know  me.  My  name  's  Jo 
Corbin.  I  guess,"  he  added,  still  discon- 
tentedly, "  I  have  to  consult  you  about  some- 
thing." 

"  Corbin  ?  "  repeated  the  Colonel  in  his 
jauntiest  manner.  "  Ah !  Any  relation  to 
old  Maje  Corbin  of  Nashville,  sir?" 

"  No,"  said  the  stranger  briefly.  "  I  'm 
from  Shelbyville." 

"  The  Major,"  continued  the  Colonel,  half 
closing  his  eyes  as  if  to  follow  the  Major 
into  the  dreamy  past,  "  the  old  Major,  sir, 
a  matter  of  five  or  six  years  ago,  was  one 
of  my  most  intimate  political  friends,  —  in 
fact,  sir,  my  most  intimate  friend.  Take 
a  chyar! " 

But  the  stranger  had  already  taken  one, 
and  during  the  Colonel's  reminiscence  had 
leaned  forward,  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground, 
discontentedly  swinging  his  soft  hat  between 
his  legs.  "  Did  you  know  Tom  Frisbee,  of 
Yolo?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"Er  —  no." 

"  Nor  even  heard  anything  about  Frisbee, 
nor  what  happened  to  him  ?  "  continued  the 
man,  with  aggrieved  melancholy. 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.         5 

In  point  of  fact  the  Colonel  did  not  think 
that  he  had. 

"  Nor  anything  about  his  being  killed  over 
at  Fresno?"  said  the  stranger,  with  a  de- 
sponding implication  that  the  interview  after 
all  was  a  failure. 

"If — cr  —  if  you  could  —  er  —  give  me  a 
hint  or  two,"  suggested  the  Colonel  blandly. 

"  There  was  n't  much,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  if  you  don't  remember."  He  paused,  then 
rising,  he  gloomily  dragged  his  chair  slowly 
beside  the  table,  and  taking  up  a  paper- 
weight examined  it  with  heavy  dissatisfac- 
tion. "  You  see,"  he  went  on  slowly,  "  I 
killed  him  —  it  was  a  quo'll.  He  was  my 
pardner,  but  I  reckon  he  must  have  drove 
me  hard.  Yes,  sir,"  he  added  with  ag- 
grieved reflection,  "  I  reckon  he  drove  me 
hard." 

The  Colonel  smiled  courteously,  slightly 
expanding  his  chest  under  the  homicidal  re- 
lation, as  if,  having  taken  it  in  and  made 
it  a  part  of  himself,  he  was  ready,  if  neces- 
sary, to  become  personally  responsible  for  it. 
Then  lifting  his  empty  glass  to  the  light,  he 
looked  at  it  with  half  closed  eyes,  in  polite 
imitation  of  his  companion's  examination  of 
the  paper-weight,  and  set  it  down  again.  A 


6          COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

casual  spectator  from  the  window  might 
have  imagined  that  the  two  were  engaged  in 
an  amicable  inventory  of  the  furniture. 

"  And  the  —  er  —  actual  circumstances  ?  " 
asked  the  Colonel. 

"  Oh,  it  was  fair  enough  fight.  They  'II 
tell  you  that.  And  so  would  he,  I  reckon  — 
if  he  could.  He  was  ugly  and  bedev'lin', 
but  I  did  n't  care  to  quo'll.  and  give  him  the 
go-by  all  the  time.  He  kept  on,  followed 
me  out  of  the  shanty,  drew,  and  fired  twice. 
I" — he  stopped  and  regarded  his  hat  a  mo- 
ment as  if  it  was  a  corroborating  witness  — 
"I  —  I  closed  with  him  —  I  had  to  —  it 
was  my  only  chance,  and  that  ended  it  — 
and  with  his  own  revolver.  I  never  drew 
mine." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  Colonel,  nodding, 
"clearly  justifiable  and  honorable  as  re- 
gards the  code.  And  you  wish  me  to  de- 
fend you  ?  " 

The  stranger's  gloomy  expression  of  as- 
tonishment now  turned  to  blank  hopeless- 
ness. 

"  I  knew  you  did  n't  understand,"  he  said, 
despairingly.  "  Why,  all  that  was  two 
years  ago.  It's  all  settled  and  done  and 
gone.  The  jury  found  for  me  at  the  in- 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.          1 

quest.  It  ain't  that  I  want  to  see  you  about. 
It 's  something  arising  out  of  it." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  Colonel,  affably,  "  a  ven- 
detta, perhaps.  Some  friend  or  relation  of 
his  taken  up  the  quarrel  ?  " 

The  stranger  looked  abstractedly  at  Star- 
bottle.  "  You  think  a  relation  might ;  or 
would  feel  in  that  sort  of  way  ?  " 

"  Why,  blank  it  all,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"  nothing  is  more  common.  Why,  in  '52 
one  of  my  oldest  friends,  Doctor  Byrne,  of 
St.  Jo,  the  seventh  in  a  line  from  old  Gen- 
eral Byrne,  of  St.  Louis,  was  killed,  sir,  by 
Pinkey  Riggs,  seventh  in  a  line  from  Sen- 
ator Riggs,  of  Kentucky.  Original  cause, 
sir,  something  about  a  d — d  roasting  ear, 
or  a  blank  persimmon  in  1832  ;  forty-seven 
men  wiped  out  in  twenty  years.  Fact,  sir." 

"  It  ain't  that,"  said  the  stranger,  moving 
hesitatingly  in  his  chair.  "If  it  was  any- 
thing of  that  sort  I  would  n't  mind,  —  it 
might  bring  matters  to  a  wind-up,  and  I 
should  n't  have  to  come  here  and  have  this 
cursed  talk  with  you." 

It  was  so  evident  that  this  frank  and  un- 
affected expression  of  some  obscure  disgust 
with  his  own  present  position  had  no  other 
implication,  that  the  Colonel  did  not  except 


8          COLONEL  STARBOTTLVS   CLIENT. 

to  it.  Yet  the  man  did  not  go  on.  He 
stopped  and  seemed  lost  in  sombre  contem- 
plation of  his  hat. 

The  Colonel  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
fanned  himself  elegantly,  wiped  his  fore- 
head with  a  large  pongee  handkerchief,  and 
looking  at  his  companion,  whose  shadowed 
abstraction  seemed  to  render  him  impervi- 
ous to  the  heat,  said  :  — 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Corbin,  I  perfectly  under- 
stand you.  Blank  it  all,  sir,  the  temperature 
in  this  infernal  hole  is  quite  enough  to  ren- 
der any  confidential  conversation  between 
gentlemen  upon  delicate  matters  utterly  im- 
possible. It 's  almost  as  near  Hades,  sir,  as 
they  make  it,  —  as  I  trust  you  and  I,  Mr. 
Corbin,  will  ever  experience.  I  propose," 
continued  the  Colonel,  with  airy  geniality, 
"  some  light  change  and  refreshment.  The 
bar-keeper  of  the  Magnolia  is  —  er  —  I  may 
say,  sir,  facile  princeps  in  the  concoction  of 
mint  juleps,  and  there  is  a  back  room  where 
I  have  occasionally  conferred  with  political 
leaders  at  election  time.  It  is  but  a  step, 
sir  —  in  fact,  on  Main  Street  —  round  the 
corner." 

The  stranger  looked  up  and  then  rose 
mechanically  as  the  Colonel  resumed  his 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.          9 

coat  and  waistcoat,  but  not  his  collar  and 
cravat,  which  lay  limp  and  dejected  among 
his  papers.  Then,  sheltering  himself  be- 
neath a  large-brimmed  Panama  hat,  and 
hooking  his  cane  on  his  arm,  he  led  the  way, 
fan  in  hand,  into  the  road,  tiptoeing  in  his 
tight,  polished  boots  through  the  red,  impal- 
pable dust  with  his  usual  jaunty  manner, 
yet  not  without  a  profane  suggestion  of 
burning  ploughshares.  The  stranger  strode 
in  silence  by  his  side  in  the  burning  sun, 
impenetrable  in  his  own  morose  shadow. 

But  the  Magnolia  was  fragrant,  like  its 
namesake,  with  mint  and  herbal  odors,  cool 
with  sprinkled  floors,  and  sparkling  with 
broken  ice  on  its  counters,  like  dewdrops 
on  white,  unfolded  petals  —  and  slightly  so- 
porific with  the  subdued  murmur  of  droning 
loungers,  who  were  heavy  with  its  sweets. 
The  gallant  Colonel  nodded  with  confidential 
affability  to  the  spotless-shirted  bar-keeper, 
and  then  taking  Corbin  by  the  arm  frater- 
nally conducted  him  into  a  small  apartment 
in  the  rear  of  the  bar-room.  It  was  evi- 
dently used  as  the  office  of  the  proprietor, 
and  contained  a  plain  desk,  table,  and  chairs. 
At  the  rear  window,  Nature,  not  entirely 
evicted,  looked  in  with  a  few  straggling 


10       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

buckeyes  and  a  dusty  myrtle,  over  the  body 
of  a  lately-felled  pine-tree,  that  flaunted  from 
an  upflung  branch  a  still  green  spray  as  if  it 
were  a  drooping  banner  lifted  by  a  dead  but 
rigid  arm.  From  the  adjoining  room  the 
faint,  monotonous  click  of  billiard  balls, 
languidly  played,  came  at  intervals  like  the 
dry  notes  of  cicale  in  the  bushes. 

The  bar -keeper  brought  two  glasses 
crowned  with  mint  and  diademed  with 
broken  ice.  The  Colonel  took  a  long  pull 
at  his  portion,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
with  a  bland  gulp  of  satisfaction  and  dream- 
ily patient  eyes.  The  stranger  mechanically 
sipped  the  contents  of  his  glass,  and  then, 
without  having  altered  his  reluctant  expres- 
sion, drew  from  his  breast-pocket  a  number 
of  old  letters.  Holding  them  displayed  in 
his  fingers  like  a  difficult  hand  of  cards,  and 
with  something  of  the  air  of  a  dispirited 
player,  he  began :  — 

"  You  see,  about  six  months  after  this  yer 
trouble  I  got  this  letter."  He  picked  out  a 
well  worn,  badly  written  missive,  and  put  it 
into  Colonel  Starbottle's  hands,  rising  at  the 
same  time  and  leaning  over  him  as  he  read. 
"  You  see,  she  that  writ  it  says  as  how  she 
had  n't  heard  from  her  son  for  a  long  time, 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       11 

but  owing  to  his  having  spoken  once  about 
me,  she  was  emboldened  to  write  and  ask  me 
if  I  knew  what  had  gone  of  him."  He  was 
pointing  his  finger  at  each  line,of  the  letter 
as  he  read  it,  or  rather  seemed  to  translate 
it  from  memory  with  a  sad  familiarity. 
"  Now,"  he  continued  in  parenthesis,  "  you 
see  this  kind  o'  got  me.  I  knew  he  had  got 
relatives  in  Kentucky.  I  knew  that  all  this 
trouble  had  been  put  in  the  paper  with  his 
name  and  mine,  but  this  here  name  of  Mar- 
tha Jeffcourt  at  the  bottom  did  n't  seem  to 
jibe  with  it.  Then  I  remembered  that  he 
had  left  a  lot  of  letters  in  his  trunk  in  the 
shanty,  and  I  looked  'em  over.  And  I  found 
that  his  name  was  Tom  Jeffcourt,  and  that 
he  'd  been  passin'  under  the  name  of  Frisbee 
all  this  time." 

"  Perfectly  natural  and  a  frequent  occur- 
rence," interposed  the  Colonel  cheerfully. 
<c  Only  last  year  I  met  an  old  friend  whom 
we  '11  call  Stidger,  of  New  Orleans,  at  the 
Union  Club,  'Frisco.  4  How  are  you,  Stid- 
ger ?  '  I  said ;  '  I  have  n't  seen  you  since  we 
used  to  meet  —  driving  over  the  Shell  Road 
in  '53.'  '  Excuse  me,  sir,'  said  he,  '  my 
name  is  not  Stidger,  it 's  Brown.'  I  looked 
him  in  the  eye,  sir,  and  saw  him  quiver. 


12       COLONEL   STARBOTTLKS   CLIENT. 

'  Then  I  must  apologize  to  Stidger,'  I  said, 
'  for  supposing  him  capable  of  changing  his 
name.'  He  came  to  me  an  hour  after,  all 
in  a  tremble.  '  For  God's  sake,  Star,'  he 
said,  —  always  called  me  Star,  — '  don't  go 
back  on  me,  but  you  know  family  affairs  — 
another  woman,  beautiful  creature,'  etc., 
etc.,  —  yes,  sir,  perfectly  common,  but  a 
blank  mistake.  When  a  man  once  funks 
his  own  name  he  '11  turn  tail  on  anything. 
Sorry  for  this  man,  Friezecoat,  or  Turncoat, 
or  whatever 's  his  d — d  name  ;  but  it 's  so." 

The  suggestion  did  not,  however,  seem  to 
raise  the  stranger's  spirits  or  alter  his  man- 
ner. "  His  name  was  Jeffcourt,  and  this 
here  was  his  mother,"  he  went  on  drearily ; 
"  and  you  see  here  she  says  "  —  pointing  to  the 
letter  again  —  "  she  's  been  expecting  money 
from  him  and  it  don't  come,  and  she 's 
mighty  hard  up.  And  that  gave  me  an 
idea.  I  don't  know,"  he  went  on,  regarding 
the  Colonel  with  gloomy  doubt,  "  as  you  '11 
think  it  was  much  ;  I  don't  know  as  you 
would  n't  call  it  a  d — d  fool  idea,  but  I  got 
it  all  the  same."  He  stopped,  hesitated, 
and  went  on.  "  You  see  this  man,  Frisbee 
or  Jeffcourt,  was  my  pardner.  We  were 
good  friends  up  to  the  killing,  and  then  he 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLVS   CLIENT.       13 

drove  me  hard.  I  think  I  told  you  he  drove 
me  hard,  —  did  n't  I  ?  Well,  he  did.  But 
the  idea  I  got  was  this.  Considerin'  I  killed 
him  after  all,  and  so  to  speak  disappointed 
them,  I  reckoned  I  'd  take  upon  myself  the 
care  of  that  family  and  send  'em  money 
every  month." 

The  Colonel  slightly  straitened  his  clean- 
shaken  mouth.  "  A  kind  of  expiation  or 
amercement  by  fine,  known  to  the  Mosaic, 
Roman,  and  old  English  law.  Gad,  sir,  the 
Jews  might  have  made  you  marry  his  widow 
or  sister.  An  old  custom,  and  I  think  su- 
perseded —  sir,  properly  superseded  —  by 
the  alternative  of  ordeal  by  battle  in  the 
mediaeval  times.  I  don't  myself  fancy  these 
pecuniary  fashions  of  settling  wrongs,  —  but 
go  on." 

"  I  wrote  her,"  continued  Corbin,  "  that 
her  son  was  dead,  but  that  he  and  me  had 
some  interests  together  in  a  claim,  and  that 
I  was  very  glad  to  know  where  to  send  her 
what  would  be  his  share  every  month.  I 
thought  it  no  use  to  tell  her  I  killed  him, 
—  may  be  she  might  refuse  to  take  it.  I 
sent  her  a  hundred  dollars  every  month 
since.  Sometimes  it's  been  pretty  hard 
sleddin'  to  do  it,  for  I  ain't  rich  ;  sometimes 


14       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

I  've  had  to  borrow  the  money,  but  I  reck- 
oned that  I  was  only  paying  for  my  share  in 
this  here  business  of  his  bein'  dead,  and  I 
did  it." 

"And  I  understand  you  that  this  Jeff- 
court  really  had  no  interest  in  your  claim  ?  " 

Corbin  looked  at  him  in  dull  astonish- 
ment. "  Not  a  cent,  of  course  ;  I  thought  I 
told  you  that.  But  that  were  n't  his  fault, 
for  he  never  had  anything,  and  owed  me 
money.  In  fact,"  he  added  gloomily,  "it 
was  because  I  had  n't  any  more  to  give  him 
—  havin'  sold  my  watch  for  grub  —  that  he 
quo'lled  with  me  that  day,  and  up  and  called 
me  a  '  sneakin'  Yankee  hound/  I  told 
you  he  drove  me  hard." 

The  Colonel  coughed  slightly  and  resumed 
his  jaunty  manner.  "  And  the  —  er  — 
mother  was,  of  course,  grateful  and  satis- 
fied?" 

"  Well,  no,  —  not  exactly."  He  stopped 
again  and  took  up  his  letters  once  more, 
sorted  and  arranged  them  as  if  to  play  out 
his  unfinished  but  hopeless  hand,  and  draw- 
ing out  another,  laid  it  before  the  Colonel. 
"  You  see,  this  Mrs.  Jeffcourt,  after  a  time, 
reckoned  she  ought  to  have  more  money 
than  I  sent  her,  and  wrote  saying  that  she 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       15 

had  always  understood  from  her  son  (he 
that  never  wrote  but  once  a  year,  remem- 
ber) that  this  claim  of  ours  (that  she  never 
knew  of,  you  know)  was  paying  much  more 
than  I  sent  her  —  and  she  wanted  a  return 
of  accounts  and  papers,  or  she  'd  write  to 
some  lawyer,  mighty  quick.  Well,  I  reck- 
oned that  all  this  was  naturally  in  the  line 
of  my  trouble,  and  I  did  manage  to  scrape 
together  fifty  dollars  more  for  two  months 
and  sent  it.  But  that  did  n't  seem  to  satisfy 
her  —  as  you  see."  He  dealt  Colonel  Star- 
bottle  another  letter  from  his  baleful  hand 
with  an  unchanged  face.  "  When  I  got 
that,  —  well,  I  just  up  and  told  her  the  whole 
thing.  I  sent  her  the  account  of  the  fight 
from  the  newspapers,  and  told  her  as  how 
her  son  was  the  Frisbee  that  was  my  pard- 
ner,  and  how  he  never  had  a  cent  in  the 
world  —  but  how  I  'd  got  that  idea  to  help 
her,  and  was  willing  to  carry  it  out  as  long 
as  I  could." 

"Did  you  keep  a  copy  of  that  letter?" 
asked  the  Colonel,  straitening  his  mask-like 
mouth. 

"  No,"  said  Corbin  moodily.  "  What  was 
the  good  ?  I  know'd  she  'd  got  the  letter, 
—  and  she  did,  —  for  that  is  what  she  wrote 


16       COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

back."  He  laid  another  letter  before  the 
Colonel,  who  hastily  read  a  few  lines  and 
then  brought  his  fat  white  hand  violently  on 
the  desk. 

"  Why,  d — n  it  all,  sir,  this  is  blackmail ! 
As  infamous  a  case  of  threatening  and  chan- 
tage as  I  ever  heard  of." 

"  Well,"  said  Corbin,  dejectedly,  "  I 
don't  know.  You  see  she  allows  that  I  mur- 
dered Frisbee  to  get  hold  of  his  claim,  and 
that  I  'm  trying  to  buy  her  off,  and  that  if 
I  don't  come  down  with  twenty  thousand 
dollars  on  the  nail,  and  notes  for  the  rest, 
she  '11  prosecute  me.  Well,  mebbe  the  thing 
looks  to  her  like  that  —  mebbe  you  know 
I  've  got  to  shoulder  that  too.  Perhaps  it 's 
all  in  the  same  line." 

Colonel  Starbottle  for  a  moment  regarded 
Corbin  critically.  In  spite  of  his  chivalrous 
attitude  towards  the  homicidal  faculty,  the 
Colonel  was  not  optimistic  in  regard  to  the 
baser  pecuniary  interests  of  his  fellow-man. 
It  was  quite  on  the  cards  that  his  companion 
might  have  murdered  his  partner  to  get 
possession  of  the  claim.  It  was  true  that 
Corbin  had  voluntarily  assumed  an  unre- 
corded and  hitherto  unknown  responsibility 
that  had  never  been  even  suspected,  and  was 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       17 

virtually  self-imposed.  But  that  might  have 
been  the  usual  one  unerring  blunder  of 
criminal  sagacity  and  forethought.  It  was 
equally  true  that  he  did  not  look  or  act  like 
a  mean  murderer ;  but  that  was  nothing. 
However,  there  was  no  evidence  of  these 
reflections  in  the  Colonel's  face.  Rather  he 
suddenly  beamed  with  an  excess  of  polite- 
ness. "  Would  you  —  er  —  mind,  Mr.  Cor- 
bin,  whilst  I  am  going  over  those  letters 
again,  to  —  er  —  step  across  to  my  office  — 
and  —  er  —  bring  me  the  copy  of  '  Wood's 
Digest '  that  lies  on  my  table  ?  It  will  save 
some  time." 

The  stranger  rose,  as  if  the  service  was 
part  of  his  self-imposed  trouble,  and  as 
equally  hopeless  with  the  rest,  and  taking 
his  hat  departed  to  execute  the  commission. 
As  soon  as  he  had  left  the  building  Colonel 
Starbottle  opened  the  door  and  mysteriously 
beckoned  the  bar-keeper  within. 

"  Do  you  remember  anything  of  the  kill- 
ing of  a  man  named  Frisbee  over  in  Fresno 
three  years  ago  ?  " 

The  bar -keeper  whistled  meditatively. 
"  Three  years  ago  —  Frisbee  ?  —  Fresno  ?  — 
no?  Yes  —  but  that  was  only  one  of  his 
names.  He  was  Jack  Walker  over  here. 


18       COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

Yes —  and  by  Jove  !  that  feller  that  was 
here  with  you  killed  him.  Darn  my  skin, 
but  I  thought  I  recognized  him." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  all  that,"  said  the 
Colonel,  impatiently.  "  But  did  Frisbee 
have  any  property?  Did  he  have  any 
means  of  his  own  ?  " 

"  Property  ?  "  echoed  the  bar-keeper  with 
scornful  incredulity.  "  Property  ?  Means  ? 
The  only  property  and  means  he  ever  had 
was  the  free  lunches  or  drinks  he  took  in  at 
somebody  else's  expense.  Why,  the  only 
chance  he  ever  had  of  earning  a  square  meal 
was  when  that  fellow  that  was  with  you  just 
now  took  him  up  and  made  him  his  partner. 
And  the  only  way  he  could  get  rid  of  him 
was  to  kill  him !  And  I  did  n't  think  he 
had  it  in  him.  Eather  a  queer  kind  o'  chap, 
—  good  deal  of  hayseed  about  him.  Showed 
up  at  the  inquest  so  glum  and  orkerd  that 
if  the  boys  had  n't  made  up  their  minds  this 
yer  Frisbee  orter  been  killed  —  it  might 
have  gone  hard  with  him." 

"Mr.  Corbin,"  said  Colonel  Starbottle, 
with  a  pained  but  unmistakable  hauteur 
and  a  singular  elevation  of  his  shirt  frill,  as 
if  it  had  become  of  its  own  accord  erectile, 
"  Mr.  Corbin  —  er  —  er  —  is  the  distant  rela- 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       19 

tive  of  old  Major  Corbin,  of  Nashville  —  er 

—  one  of  my  oldest  political  friends.    When 
Mr.  Corbin  —  er  —  returns,  you  can  conduct 
him  to  me.     And,  if  you  please,  replenish 
the  glasses." 

When  the  bar-keeper  respectfully  showed 
Mr.  Corbin  and  "  Wood's  Digest  "  into  the 
room  again,  the  Colonel  was  still  beaming 
and  apologetic. 

"A  thousand  thanks,  sir,  but  except  to 
show  you  the  law  if  you  require  it  —  hardly 
necessary.  I  have  —  er  —  glanced  over  the 
woman's  letters  again;  it  would  be  better, 
perhaps,  if  you  had  kept  copies  of  your  own 

—  but   still  these  tell   the  whole   story  and 
your   own.      The    claim    is    preposterous ! 
You  have  simply  to  drop  the  whole  thing. 
Stop  your  remittances,  stop  your  correspon- 
dence, —  pay  no  heed  to  any  further  letters 
and  wait  results.     You  need   fear   nothing- 
further,  sir  ;  I  stake  my  professional  reputa- 
tion on  it." 

The  gloom  of  the  stranger  seemed  only  to 
increase  as  the  Colonel  reached  his  trium- 
phant conclusion. 

"  I  reckoned  you  'd  say  that,"  he  said 
slowly,  "but  it  won't  do.  I  shall  go  on 
paying  as  far  as  I  can.  It 's  my  trouble  and 
1  '11  see  it  through." 


20       COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT. 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  consider,"  gasped  the 
Colonel.  "  You  are  in  the  hands  of  an  in- 
famous harpy,  who  is  using  her  son's  blood 
to  extract  money  from  you.  You  have 
already  paid  a  dozen  times  more  than  the 
life  of  that  d — d  sneak  was  worth;  and 
more  than  that  —  the  longer  you  keep  on 
paying  you  are  helping  to  give  color  to 
their  claim  and  estopping  your  own  defense. 
And  Gad,  sir,  you  're  making  a  precedent 
for  this  sort  of  thing!  you  are  offering  a 
premium  to  widows  and  orphans.  A  gentle- 
man won't  be  able  to  exchange  shots  with 
another  without  making  himself  liable  for 
damages.  I  am  willing  to  admit  that  your 
feelings  — though,  in  my  opinion  —  er  —  ex- 
aggerated —  do  you  credit ;  but  I  am  sat- 
isfied that  they  are  utterly  misunderstood  — 
sir." 

"  Not  by  all  of  them,"  said  Corbin  darkly. 

"  Eh?  "  returned  the  Colonel  quickly. 

"  There  was  another  letter  here  which  I 
did  n't  particularly  point  out  to  you,"  said 
Corbin,  taking  up  the  letters  again,  "  for  I 
reckoned  it  wasn  n't  evidence,  so  to  speak, 
being  from  his  cousin,  —  a  girl,  —  and  cal- 
culated you  'd  read  it  when  I  was  out." 

The  Colonel  coughed  hastily.     "  I  was  in 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       21 

fact  —  er  —  just  about  to  glance  over  it 
when  you  came  in." 

"  It  was  written,"  continued  Corbin,  se- 
lecting a  letter  more  bethumbed  than  the 
others,  "  after  the  old  woman  had  threatened 
me.  This  here  young  woman  allows  that 
she  is  sorry  that  her  aunt  has  to  take  money 
of  me  on  account  of  her  cousin  being  killed, 
and  she  is  still  sorrier  that  she  is  so  bitter 
against  me.  She  says  she  had  n't  seen  her 
cousin  since  he  was  a  boy,  and  used  to  play 
with  her,  and  that  she  finds  it  hard  to  be- 
lieve that  he  should  ever  grow  up  to  change 
his  name  and  act  so  as  to  provoke  anybody 
to  lift  a  hand  against  him.  She  says  she 
supposed  it  must  be  something  in  that  dread- 
ful California  that  alters  people  and  makes 
everybody  so  reckless.  I  reckon  her  head's 
level  there,  ain't  it?" 

There  was  such  a  sudden  and  unexpected 
lightening  of  the  man's  face  as  he  said  it, 
such  a  momentary  relief  to  his  persistent 
gloom,  that  the  Colonel,  albeit  inwardly  dis- 
senting from  both  letter  and  comment, 
smiled  condescendingly. 

"  She  's  no  slouch  of  a  scribe  neither," 
continued  Corbin  animatedly.  "  Read  that." 

He  handed  his  companion  the  letter,  point- 


22       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

ing  to  a  passage  with  his  finger.  The  Colo- 
nel took  it  with,  I  fear,  a  somewhat  lowered 
opinion  of  his  client,  and  a  new  theory  of  the 
case.  It  was  evident  that  this  weak  submis- 
sion to  the  aunt's  conspiracy  was  only  the 
result  of  a  greater  weakness  for  the  niece. 
Colonel  Star  bottle  had  a  wholesome  distrust 
of  the  sex  as  a  business  or  political  factor. 
He  began  to  look  over  the  letter,  but  was 
evidently  slurring  it  with  superficial  polite- 
ness, when  Corbin  said  :  — 

"  Read  it  out  loud." 

The  Colonel  slightly  lifted  his  shoulders, 
fortified  himself  with  another  sip  of  the 
julep,  and,  leaning  back,  oratorically  began 
to  read,  —  the  stranger  leaning  over  him  and 
following  line  by  line  with  shining  eyes. 

" 4  When  I  say  I  am  sorry  for  you,  it  is  be- 
cause I  think  it  must  be  dreadful  for  you  to 
be  going  round  with  the  blood  of  a  fellow- 
creature  on  your  hands.  It  must  be  awful 
for  you  in  the  stillness  of  the  night  season  to 
hear  the  voice  of  the  Lord  saying,  "  Cain, 
where  is  thy  brother?"  and  you  saying, 
"  Lord,  I  have  slayed  him  dead."  It  must 
be  awful  for  you  when  the  pride  of  your 
wrath  was  surfitted,  and  his  dum  senseless 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       23 

corps  was  before  you,  not  to  know  that  it  is 
written,  "  Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay," 
saith  the  Lord.  ...  It  was  no  use  for  you 
to  say,  "  I  never  heard  that  before,"  remem- 
bering your  teacher  and  parents.  Yet  verily 
I  say  unto  you,  "Though  your  sins  be  as 
scarlet,  they  shall  be  washed  whiter  than 
snow,"  saith  the  Lord  —  Isaiah  i.  18  ;  and 
"  Heart  hath  no  sorrow  that  Heaven  cannot 
heal."  —  My  hymn  book,  1st  Presbyterian 
Church,  page  79.  Mr.  Corbin,  I  pity  your 
feelins  at  the  grave  of  my  pore  dear  cousin, 
knowing  he  is  before  his  Maker,  and  you 
can't  bring  him  back.'  Umph  !  —  er  —  er 
—  very  good  —  very  good  indeed,"  said  the 
Colonel,  hastily  refolding  the  letter.  "  Very 
well  meaning  and  —  er  "  — 

"  Go  on,"  said  Corbin  over  his  shoulder, 
"you  have  n't  read  all." 

"  Ah,  true.  I  perceive  I  overlooked  some- 
thing. Um  —  um.  '  May  God  forgive 
you,  Mr.  Corbin,  as  I  do,  and  make  aunty 
think  better  of  you,  for  it  was  good  what 
you  tried  to  do  for  her  and  the  fammely, 
and  I  've  always  said  it  when  she  was  raging 
round  and  wanting  money  of  you.  I  don't 
believe  you  meant  to  do  it  anyway,  owin'  to 
your  kindness  of  heart  to  the  ophanless  and 


24       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

the  widow  since  you  did  it.  Anser  this  let- 
ter, and  don't  mind  what  aunty  says.  So 
no  more  at  present  from  —  Yours  very  re- 
spectfully, SALLY  Dows. 

"  'P.  S.  —  There 's  been  some  troubel  in 
our  township,  and  some  fitin'.  May  the 
Lord  change  ther  hearts  and  make  them  as 
a  little  child,  for  if  you  are  still  young  you 
may  grow  up  different.  I  have  writ  a  short 
prayer  for  you  to  say  every  night.  You  can 
coppy  it  out  and  put  it  at  the  head  of  your 
bed.  It  is  this  :  O  Lord  make  me  sorry  for 
having  killed  Sarah  Dows'  cousin.  Give 
me,  O  Lord,  that  peace  that  the  world  can- 
not give,  and  which  fadeth  not  away  ;  for  my 
yoke  is  heavy,  and  my  burden  is  harder  than 
I  can  bear.' " 

The  Colonel's  deliberate  voice  stopped. 
There  was  a  silence  in  the  room,  and  the  air 
seemed  stifling.  The  click  of  the  billiard 
balls  came  distinctly  through  the  partition 
from  the  other  room.  Then  there  was 
another  click,  a  stamp  on  the  floor,  and  a 
voice  crying  coarsely :  "  Curse  it  all  —  missed 
again !  " 

To  the  stranger's  astonishment,  the  Colo- 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       25 

nel  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant,  gasping 
with  inarticulate  rage.  Flinging  the  door 
open,  he  confronted  the  startled  bar-keeper 
empurpled  and  stertorous. 

"Blank  it  all,  sir,  do  you  call  this  a  sa- 
loon for  gentlemen,  or  a  corral  for  swearing 
cattle  ?  Or  do  you  mean  to  say  that  the 
conversation  of  two  gentlemen  upon  delicate 
professional  —  and  —  er  —  domestic  affairs 
—  is  to  be  broken  upon  by  the  blank  pro- 
fanity of  low-bred  hounds  over  their  pica- 
yune gambling !  Take  them  my  kyard, 
sir,"  choked  the  Colonel,  who  was  always 
Southern  and  dialectic  in  his  excited  as  in 
his  softest  moments,  "and  tell  them  that 
Colonel  Starbottle  will  nevah  dyarken  these 
doahs  again." 

Before  the  astonished  bar-keeper  could 
reply,  the  Colonel  had  dashed  back  into  the 
room,  clapped  his  hat  on  his  head,  and  seized 
his  book,  letters,  and  cane.  "  Mr.  Corbin," 
he  said  with  gasping  dignity,  "  I  will  take 
these  papahs,  and  consult  them  again  in  my 
own  office  —  where,  if  you  will  do  me  the 
honor,  sir,  to  call  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow, 
I  will  give  you  my  opinion."  He  strode  out 
of  the  saloon  beside  the  half  awe-stricken, 
half-amused,  yet  all  discreetly  silent  loungers, 


26       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT. 

followed  by  his  wondering  but  gloomy  client. 
At  the  door  they  parted,  —  the  Colonel  tip- 
toeing towards  his  office  as  if  dancing  with 
rage,  the  stranger  darkly  plodding  through 
the  stifling  dust  in  the  opposite  direction, 
with  what  might  have  been  a  faint  sugges- 
tion to  his  counselor,  that  the  paths  of  the 
homicide  did  not  lie  beside  the  still  cool 
waters. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  house  of  Captain  Masterton  Dows, 
at  Pineville,  Kentucky,  was  a  fine  specimen 
of  Southern  classical  architecture,  being  an 
exact  copy  of  Major  Fauquier's  house  in 
Virginia,  which  was  in  turn  only  a  slight 
variation  from  a  well-known  statesman's  his- 
torical villa  in  Alabama,  that  everybody 
knew  was  designed  from  a  famous  Greek 
temple  on  the  Piraeus.  Not  but  that  it 
shared  this  resemblance  with  the  County 
Court  House  and  the  Odd  Fellows'  Hall, 
but  the  addition  of  training  jessamine  and 
Cherokee  rose  to  the  columns  of  the  portico, 
and  over  the  colonnade  leading  to  its  offices, 
showed  a  certain  domestic  distinction.  And 
the  sky  line  of  its  incongruously  high  roof 
was  pleasantly  broken  against  adjacent  green 
pines,  butternut,  and  darker  cypress. 

A  nearer  approach  showed  the  stuccoed 
gateposts  —  whose  red  brick  core  was  re- 
vealed through  the  dropping  plaster  —  open- 
ing in  a  wall  of  half-rough  stone,  half -wooden 


28       COLONEL  STARBOTTLVS   CLIENT. 

palisade,  equally  covered  with  shining  moss 
and  parasitical  vines,  which  hid  a  tangled 
garden  left  to  its  own  unkempt  luxuriance. 
Yet  there  was  a  reminiscence  of  past  for- 
mality and  even  pretentiousness  in  a  wide 
box-bordered  terrace  and  one  or  two  stuccoed 
vases  prematurely  worn  and  time-stained ; 
while  several  rare  exotics  had,  however, 
thriven  so  unwisely  and  well  in  that  stimu- 
lating soil  as  to  lose  their  exclusive  refinement 
and  acquire  a  certain  temporary  vulgarity. 
A  few,  with  the  not  uncommon  enthusiasm 
of  aliens,  had  adopted  certain  native  pecul- 
iarities with  a  zeal  that  far  exceeded  any 
indigenous  performance.  But  dominant 
through  all  was  the  continual  suggestion  of 
precocious  fruition  and  premature  decay  that 
lingered  like  a  sad  perfume  in  the  garden, 
but  made  itself  persistent  if  less  poetical  in 
the  house. 

Here  the  fluted  wooden  columns  of  the 
portico  and  colonnade  seemed  to  have  taken 
upon  themselves  a  sodden  and  unwholesome 
age  unknown  to  stone  and  mortar.  Moss 
and  creeper  clung  to  paint  that  time  had 
neither  dried  nor  mellowed,  but  left  still 
glairy  in  its  white  consistency.  There  were 
rusty  red  blotches  around  inflamed  nail- 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       29 

holes  in  the  swollen  wood,  as  of  punctures 
in  living  flesh  ;  along  the  entablature  and 
cornices  and  in  the  dank  gutters  decay  had 
taken  the  form  of  a"  mild  deliquescence ; 
and  the  pillars  were  spotted  as  if  Nature 
had  dropped  over  the  too  early  ruin  a  few 
unclean  tears.  The  house  itself  was  lifted 
upon  a  broad  wooden  foundation  painted  to 
imitate  marble  with  such  hopeless  mendacity 
that  the  architect  at  the  last  moment  had 
added  a  green  border,  and  the  owner  per- 
mitted a  fallen  board  to  remain  off  so  as  to 
allow  a  few  privileged  fowls  to  openly  ex- 
plore the  interior.  When  Miss  Sally  Dows 
played  the  piano  in  the  drawing-room  she 
was  at  times  accompanied  by  the  uplifted 
voice  of  the  sympathetic  hounds  who  sought 
its  quiet  retreat  in  ill-health  or  low  spirits, 
and  from  whom  she  was  separated  only  by 
an  imperfectly  carpeted  floor  of  yawning 
seams.  The  infant  progeny  of  "Mammy 
Judy,"  an  old  nurse,  made  this  a  hiding- 
place  from  domestic  justice,  where  they  were 
eventually  betrayed  by  subterranean  gig- 
gling that  had  once  or  twice  brought  bash- 
ful confusion  to  the  hearts  of  Miss  Sally's 
admirers,  and  mischievous  security  to  that 
finished  coquette  herself. 


30       COLONEL  STARBOTTL&S   CLIENT. 

It  was  a  pleasant  September  afternoon,  on 
possibly  one  of  these  occasions,  that  Miss 
Sally,  sitting  before  the  piano,  alternately 
striking  a  few  notes  with  three  pink  fingers 
and  glancing  at  her  reflection  in  the  polished 
rosewood  surface  of  the  lifted  keyboard  case, 
was  heard  to  utter  this  languid  protest:  — 

"  Quit  that  kind  of  talk,  Chet,  unless  you 
just  admire  to  have  every  word  of  it  repeated 
all  over  the  county.  Those  little  niggers  of 
Mammy  Judy's  are  lying  round  somewhere 
and  are  mighty  'cute,  and  sassy,  I  tell  you. 
It 's  nothin'  to  me,  sure,  but  Miss  Hilda 
might  n't  like  to  hear  of  it.  So  soon  after 
your  particular  attention  to  her  at  last 
night's  pawty  too." 

Here  a  fresh-looking  young  fellow  of  six- 
and-twenty,  leaning  uneasily  over  the  piano 
from  the  opposite  side,  was  heard  to  murmur 
that  he  did  n't  care  what  Miss  Hilda  heard, 
nor  the  whole  world,  for  the  matter  of  that. 
"  But,"  he  added,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  folks 
allow  that  you  know  how  to  play  up  some- 
times, and  put  on  the  loud  pedal,  when  you 
don't  want  Mammy's  niggers  to  hear." 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  young  lady  demurely. 
"Like  this?" 

She    put    out   a    distracting   little   foot, 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       31 

clothed  in  the  white  stocking  and  cool  black 
prunella  slipper  then  de  rigueur  in  the 
State,  and,  pressing  it  on  the  pedal,  began 
to  drum  vigorously  on  the  keys.  In  vain 
the  amorous  Chet  protested  in  a  voice  which 
the  instrument  drowned.  Perceiving  which 
the  artful  young  lady  opened  her  blue  eyes 
mildly  and  said  :  — 

"  I  reckon  it  is  so ;  it  does  kind  of  pre- 
vent you  hearing  what  you  don't  want  to 
hear." 

"  You  know  well  enough  what  I  mean," 
said  the  youth  gloomily.  "And  that  ain't 
all  that  folks  say.  They  allow  that  you  're 
doin'  a  heap  too  much  correspondence  with 
that  Californian  rough  that  killed  Tom  Jeff- 
court  over  there." 

"  Do  they  ?  "  said  the  young  lady,  with  a 
slight  curl  of  her  pretty  lip.  "  Then  per- 
haps they  allow  that  if  it  was  n't  for  me  he 
would  n't  be  sending  a  hundred  dollars  a 
month  to  Aunt  Martha  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  fatuous  youth  ;  "  but  they 
allow  he  killed  Tom  for  his  money.  And 
they  do  say  it 's  mighty  queer  doin's  in  yo' 
writin'  religious  letters  to  him,  and  Tom 
your  own  cousin." 

"Oh,  they  tell  those   lies  here,  do  they? 


32       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

But  do  they  say  anything  about  how,  when 
the  same  lies  were  told  over  in  California,  the 
lawyer  they  've  got  over  there,  called  Colonel 
Starbottle,  —  a  Southern  man  too,  —  got  up 
and  just  wrote  to  Aunt  Martha  that  she  'd 
better  quit  that  afore  she  got  prosecuted  ? 
They  did  n't  tell  you  that,  did  they,  Mister 
Chester  Brooks  ?  " 

But  here  the  unfortunate  Brooks,  after 
the  fashion  of  all  jealous  lovers,  deserted  his 
allies  for  his  fair  enemy.  "  I  don't  cotton 
to  what  they  say,  Sally,  but  you  do  write  to 
him,  and  I  don't  see  what  you've  got  to 
write  about  —  you  and  him.  Jule  Jeffcourt 
says  that  when  you  got  religion  at  Louis- 
ville during  the  revival,  you  felt  you  had  a 
call  to  write  and  save  sinners,  and  you  did 
that  as  your  trial  and  probation,  but  that 
since  you  backslided  and  are  worldly  again, 
and  go  to  parties,  you  just  keep  it  up  for 
foolin'  and  flirtin' !  She  ain't  goin'  to 
weaken  on  the  man  that  shot  her  brother, 
just  because  he  's  got  a  gold  mine  and  —  a 
mustache !  " 

"  She  takes  his  money  all  the  same,"  said 
Miss  Sally. 

"  She  don't, —  her  mother  does.  She  says 
if  she  was  a  man  she  'd  have  blood  for 
blood ! " 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT.       33 

"My!"  said  Miss  Sally,  in  affected  con- 
sternation. "  It 's  a  wonder  she  don't  apply 
to  you  to  act  for  her." 

"  If  it  was  my  brother  he  killed,  I  'd  chal- 
lenge him  quick  enough,"  said  Chet,  flush- 
ing through  his  thin  pink  skin  and  light 
hair. 

"  Marry  her,  then,  and  that  '11  make  you 
one  of  the  family.  I  reckon  Miss  Hilda  can 
bear  it,"  rejoined  the  young  lady  pertly. 

"  Look  here,  Miss  Sally,"  said  the  young 
fellow  with  a  boyish  despair  that  was  not 
without  a  certain  pathos  in  its  implied  infe- 
riority, "  I  ain't  gifted  like  you — I  ain't  on 
yo'  level  no  how ;  I  can't  pass  yo'  on  the  road, 
and  so  I  reckon  I  must  take  yo'  dust  as  yo' 
make  it.  But  there  is  one  thing,  Miss  Sally, 
I  want  to  tell  you.  You  know  what 's  going 
on  in  this  country,  —  you  've  heard  your 
father  say  what  the  opinion  of  the  best  men 
is,  and  what 's  likely  to  happen  if  the  Yanks 
force  that  nigger  worshiper,  Lincoln,  on  the 
South.  You  know  that  we're  drawing  the 
line  closer  every  day,  and  spottin'  the  men 
that  ain't  sound.  Take  care,  Miss  Sally, 
you  ain't  sellin'  us  cheap  to  some  Northern 
Abolitionist  who  'd  like  to  set  Marm  Judy's 
little  niggers  to  something  worse  than  eaves- 


34       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT. 

dropping  down  there,  and  mebbe  teach  'em 
to  kindle  a  fire  underneath  yo'  own  floV 

He  had  become  quite  dialectic  in  his  ap- 
peal, as  if  youthfully  reverting  to  some  ac- 
cent of  the  nursery,  or  as  if  he  were  exhort- 
ing her  in  some  recognized  shibboleth  of  a 
section.  Miss  Sally  rose  and  shut  down  the 
piano.  Then  leaning  over  it  on  her  elbows, 
her  rounded  little  chin  slightly  elevated  with 
languid  impertinence,  and  one  saucy  foot 
kicked  backwards  beyond  the  hem  of  her 
white  cotton  frock,  she  said :  "  And  let  me 
tell  you,  Mister  Chester  Brooks,  that  it 's 
just  such  God-forsaken,  infant  phenomenons 
as  you  who  want  to  run  the  whole  country 
that  make  all  this  fuss,  when  you  ain't  no 
more  fit  to  be  trusted  with  matches  than 
Judy's  children.  What  do  you  know  of  Mr. 
Jo  Corbin,  when  you  don't  even  know  that 
he  's  from  Shelbyville,  and  as  good  a  Suth'- 
ner  as  you,  and  if  he  has  n't  got  niggers  it 's 
because  they  don't  use  them  in  his  parts  ? 
Yo'r  for  all  the  world  like  one  o'  Mrs. 
Johnson's  fancy  bantams  that  ain't  quit  of 
the  shell  afore  they  square  off  at  their  own 
mother.  My  goodness  !  Sho  !  Sho-o-o !  " 
And  suiting  the  action  to  the  word  the 
young  lady,  still  indolently,  even  in  her  sim- 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT.       35 

ulation,  swirled  around,  caught  her  skirts  at 
the  side  with  each  hand,  and  lazily  shaking 
them  before  her  in  the  accepted  feminine 
method  of  frightening  chickens  as  she  re- 
treated backwards,  dropped  them  suddenly 
in  a  profound  curtsey  and  swept  out  of  the 
parlor. 

Nevertheless,  as  she  entered  the  sitting- 
room  she  paused  to  listen,  then,  going  to  the 
window,  peeped  through  the  slits  of  the 
Venetian  blind  and  saw  her  youthful  ad- 
mirer, more  dejected  in  the  consciousness  of 
his  wasted  efforts  and  useless  attire,  mount 
his  showy  young  horse,  as  aimlessly  spirited 
as  himself,  and  ride  away.  Miss  Sally  did 
not  regret  this ;  neither  had  she  been  en- 
tirely sincere  in  her  defense  of  her  myste- 
rious correspondent.  But,  like  many  of  her 
sex,  she  was  trying  to  keep  up  by  the  active 
stimulus  of  opposition  an  interest  that  she 
had  begun  to  think  if  left  to  itself  might 
wane.  She  was  conscious  that  her  cousin 
Julia,  although  impertinent  and  illogical, 
was  right  in  considering  her  first  epistolary 
advances  to  Corbin  as  a  youthful  convert's 
religious  zeal.  But  now  that  her  girlish  en- 
thusiasm was  spent,  and  the  revival  itself 
had  proved  as  fleeting  an  excitement  as  the 


36       COLONEL  STARBOTTL&S   CLIENT. 

old  "  Tournament  of  Love  and  Beauty," 
which  it  had  supplanted,  she  preferred  to 
believe  that  she  enjoyed  the  fascinating  im- 
propriety because  it  was  the  actual  result  of 
her  religious  freedom.  Perhaps  she  had  a 
vague  idea  that  Corbin's  conversion  would 
expiate  her  present  preference  for  dress 
and  dancing.  She  had  certainly  never 
flirted  with  him  ;  they  had  never  exchanged 
photographs  ;  there  was  not  a  passage  in  his 
letters  that  might  not  have  been  perused  by 
her  parents,  —  which,  I  fear,  was  probably 
one  reason  why  she  had  never  shown  her 
correspondence ;  and  beyond  the  fact  that 
this  letter-writing  gave  her  a  certain  impor- 
tance in  her  own  eyes  and  those  of  her  com- 
panions, it  might  really  be  stopped.  She 
even  thought  of  writing  at  once  to  him  that 
her  parents  objected  to  its  further  con- 
tinuance, but  remembering  that  his  usual 
monthly  letter  was  now  nearly  due,  she  con- 
cluded to  wait  until  it  came. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  Miss  Sally  had  little 
help  in  the  way  of  family  advice,  and  that 
the  moral  administration  of  the  Dows  house- 
hold was  as  prematurely  developed  and  as 
precociously  exhausted  as  the  estate  and 
mansion  themselves.  Captain  Dows'  mar- 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT.       37 

riage  with  Josephine  Jeffcourt,  the  daughter 
of  a  "  poor  white,'*  had  been  considered  a 
mesalliance  by  his  family,  and  his  own  sister, 
Miranda  Dows,  had  abandoned  her  brother's 
roof  and  refused  to  associate  with  the  Jeff- 
courts,  only  returning  to  the  house  and  an 
armed  neutrality  at  the  death  of  Mrs.  Dows 
a  few  years  later.  She  had  taken  charge  of 
Miss  Sally,  sending  her  to  school  at  Nash- 
ville until  she  was  recalled  by  her  father  two 
years  ago.  It  may  be  imagined  that  Miss 
Sally's  correspondence  with  Jeffcourt's  mur- 
derer had  afforded  her  a  mixed  satisfaction  ; 
it  was  at  first  asserted  that  Miss  Sally's 
forgiveness  was  really  prompted  by  "  Miss 
Mirandy,"  as  a  subtle  sarcasm  upon  the 
family.  When,  however,  that  forgiveness 
seemed  to  become  a  source  of  revenue  to 
the  impoverished  Jeffcourts,  her  Christian 
interference  had  declined. 

For  this  reason,  possibly,  the  young  girl 
did  not  seek  her  aunt  in  the  bedroom,  the 
dining-room,  or  the  business-room,  where 
Miss  Miranda  frequently  assisted  Captain 
Dows  in  the  fatuous  and  prejudiced  mis- 
management of  the  house  and  property,  nor 
in  any  of  the  vacant  guest-rooms,  which,  in 
their  early  wreck  of  latter-day  mahogany 


38       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

and  rosewood,  seemed  to  have  been  unoccu- 
pied for  ages,  but  went  directly  to  her  own 
room.  This  was  in  the  "  L,"  a  lately  added 
wing  that  had  escaped  the  gloomy  archi- 
tectural tyranny  of  the  main  building,  and 
gave  Miss  Sally  light,  ventilation,  the  fresh- 
ness and  spice  of  new  pine  boards  and  clean 
paper,  and  a  separate  entrance  and  windows 
on  a  cool  veranda  all  to  herself.  Intended 
as  a  concession  to  the  young  lady's  traveled 
taste,  it  was  really  a  reversion  to  the  finer 
simplicity  of  the  pioneer. 

New  as  the  apartment  appeared  to  be,  it 
was  old  enough  to  contain  the  brief  little 
records  of  her  maidenhood  :  the  childish 
samplers  and  pictures;  the  sporting  epoch 
with  its  fox-heads,  opossum  and  wild-cat 
skins,  riding-whip,  and  the  goshawk  in  a 
cage,  which  Miss  Sally  believed  could  be 
trained  as  a  falcon ;  the  religious  interval  of 
illustrated  texts,  "  Rock  of  Ages,"  cardboard 
crosses,  and  the  certificate  of  her  member- 
ship with  "  The  Daughters  of  Sion  "  at  the 
head  of  her  little  bed,  down  to  the  last  de- 
cadence of  frivolity  shown  in  the  be-ribboned 
guitar  in  the  corner,  and  the  dance  cards, 
favors,  and  rosettes,  military  buttons,  dried 
bouquets,  and  other  love  gages  on  the  man- 
telpiece. 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       39 

The  young  girl  opened  a  drawer  of  her 
table  and  took  out  a  small  packet  of  letters 
tied  up  with  a  green  ribbon.  As  she  did  so 
she  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs  in  the  rear 
courtyard.  This  was  presently  followed  by 
a  step  on  the  veranda,  and  she  opened  the 
door  to  her  father  with  the  letters  still  in 
her  hand.  There  was  neither  the  least  em- 
barrassment nor  self-consciousness  in  her 
manner. 

Captain  Dows,  superficially  remarkable 
only  for  a  certain  odd  combination  of  high 
military  stock  and  turned-over  planter's  col- 
lar, was  slightly  exalted  by  a  sympathetic 
mingling  of  politics  and  mint  julep  at  Pine- 
ville  Court  House.  "  I  was  passing  by  the 
post-office  at  the  Cross  Roads  last  week, 
dear,"  he  began,  cheerfully,  "  and  I  thought 
of  you,  and  reckoned  it  was  about  time  that 
my  Pussy  got  one  of  her  letters  from  her 
rich  Californian  friend  —  and  sure  enough 
there  was  one.  I  clean  forgot  to  give  it  to 
you  then,  and  only  remembered  it  passing 
there  to-day.  I  did  n't  get  to  see  if  there 
was  any  gold-dust  in  it,"  he  continued,  with 
great  archness,  and  a  fatherly  pinch  of  her 
cheek ;  "  though  I  suspect  that  is  n't  the 
kind  of  currency  he  sends  to  you." 


40       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

"  It  is  from  Mr.  Corbin,"  said  Miss  Sally, 
taking  it  with  a  languid  kind  of  doubt ;  "  and 
only  now,  paw,  I  was  just  thinking  that  I  'd 
sort  of  drop  writing  any  more ;  it  makes  a 
good  deal  of  buzzing  amongst  the  neigh- 
bors, and  I  don't  see  much  honey  nor  comb 
in  it." 

"  Eh,"  said  the  Captain,  apparently  more 
astonished  than  delighted  at  his  daughter's 
prudence.  "  Well,  child,  suit  yourself !  It 's 
mighty  mean,  though,  for  I  was  just  think- 
ing of  telling  you  that  Judge  Read  is  an  old 
friend  of  this  Colonel  Starbottle,  who  is  your 
friend's  friend  and  lawyer,  and  he  says  that 
Colonel  Starbottle  is  with  us,  and  working 
for  the  cause  out  there,  and  has  got  a  list 
of  all  the  So'thern  men  in  California  that 
are  sound  and  solid  for  the  South.  Read 
says  he  should  n't  wonder  if  he  'd  make  Cali- 
fornia wheel  into  line  too." 

"  I  don't  see  what  that 's  got  to  do  with 
Mr.  Corbin,"  said  the  young  girl,  impa- 
tiently, flicking  the  still  unopened  letter 
against  the  packet  in  her  hand. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Captain,  with  cheerful 
vagueness,  "  I  thought  it  might  interest  you, 
—  that 's  all,"  and  lounged  judicially  away. 

"  Paw    thinks,"    said    Miss    Sally,    still 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'8  CLIENT.       41 

standing  in  the  doorway,  ostentatiously  ad- 
dressing her  pet  goshawk,  but  with  one  eye 
following  her  retreating  parent,  "  Paw 
thinks  that  everybody  is  as  keen  bent  on 
politics  as  he  is.  There  's  where  paw  slips 
up,  Jim." 

Eeentering  the  room,  scratching  her  little 
nose  thoughtfully  with  the  edge  of  Mr.  Cor- 
bin's  letter,  she  went  to  the  mantelpiece 
and  picked  up  a  small  ivory-handled  dagger, 
the  gift  of  Joyce  Masterton,  aged  eighteen, 
presented  with  certain  verses  addressed  to  a 
"  Daughter  of  the  South,"  and  cut  open  the 
envelope.  The  first  glance  was  at  her  own 
name,  and  then  at  the  signature.  There 
was  no  change  in  the  formality ;  it  was 
"  Dear  Miss  Sarah,"  and  "  Yours  respect- 
fully, Jo  Corbin,"  as  usual.  She  was  still 
secure.  But  her  pretty  brows  contracted 
slightly  as  she  read  as  follows  :  — 

"  I  've  always  allowed  I  should  feel  easier 
in  my  mind  if  I  could  ever  get  to  see  Mrs. 
Jeffcourt,  and  that  may  be  she  might  feel 
easier  in  hers  if  I  stood  before  her,  face  to 
face.  Even  if  she  did  n't  forgive  me  at  once, 
it  might  do  her  good  to  get  off  what  she 
had  on  her  mind  against  me.  But  as  there 


42       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

was  n't  any  chance  of  her  coming  to  me,  and 
it  was  out  of  the  question  my  coming  to  her 
and  still  keeping  up  enough  work  in  the 
mines  to  send  her  the  regular  money,  it 
could  n't  be  done.  But  at  last  I  've  got  a 
partner  to  run  the  machine  when  I  'm  away. 
I  shall  be  at  Shelbyville  by  the  time  this 
reaches  you,  where  I  shall  stay  a  day  or  two 
to  give  you  time  to  break  the  news  to  Mrs. 
Jeffcourt,  and  then  come  on.  You  will  do 
this  for  me  in  your  Christian  kindness,  Miss 
Dows  —  won't  you  ?  and  if  you  could  soften 
her  mind  so  as  to  make  it  less  hard  for  me  I 
shall  be  grateful. 

"  P.  S.  —  I  forgot  to  say  I  have  had  Mm 
exhumed  —  you  know  who  I  mean  —  and 
am  bringing  him  with  me  in  a  patent  metal- 
lic burial  casket,  —  the  best  that  could  be 
got  in  'Frisco,  and  will  see  that  he  is  prop- 
erly buried  in  your  own  graveyard.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  it  would  be  the  best  thing 
I  could  do,  and  might  work  upon  her  feel- 
ings —  as  it  has  on  mine.  Don't  you  ? 

44  J.  C." 

Miss  Sally  felt  the  tendrils  of  her  fair 
hair  stir  with  consternation.  The  letter 
had  arrived  a  week  ago  ;  perhaps  he  was  in 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       43 

Pineville  at  that  very  moment !  She  must 
go  at  once  to  the  Jeffcourts,  —  it  was  only  a 
mile  distant.  Perhaps  she  might  be  still  in 
time ;  but  even  then  it  was  a  terribly  short 
notice  for  such  a  meeting.  Yet  she  stopped 
to  select  her  newest  hat  from  the  closet,  and 
to  tie  it  with  the  largest  of  bows  under  her 
pretty  chin ;  and  then  skipped  from  the 
veranda  into  a  green  lane  that  ran  beside 
the  garden  boundary.  There,  hidden  by  a 
hedge,  she  dropped  into  a  long,  swinging- 
trot,  that  even  in  her  haste  still  kept  the 
languid  deliberation  characteristic  of  her 
people,  until  she  had  reached  the  road. 
Two  or  three  hounds  in  the  garden  started 
joyously  to  follow  her,  but  she  drove  them 
back  with  a  portentous  frown,  and  an  ill- 
aimed  stone,  and  a  suppressed  voice.  Yet 
in  that  backward  glance  she  could  see  that 
her  little  Eumenides  —  Mammy  Judy's 
children  —  were  peering  at  her  from  below 
the  wooden  floor  of  the  portico,  which  they 
were  grasping  with  outstretched  arms  and 
bowed  shoulders,  as  if  they  were  black  cary- 
atides supporting  —  as  indeed  their  race  had 
done  for  many  a  year  —  the  pre-doomed  and 
decaying  mansion  of  their  master. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HAPPILY  Miss  Sally  thought  more  of  her 
present  mission  than  of  the  past  errors  of  her 
people.  The  faster  she  walked  the  more 
vividly  she  pictured  the  possible  complica- 
tions of  this  meeting.  She  knew  the  dull, 
mean  nature  of  her  aunt,  and  the  utter  hope- 
lessness of  all  appeal  to  anything  but  her 
selfish  cupidity,  and  saw  in  this  fatuous  es- 
say of  Corbin  only  an  aggravation  of  her 
worst  instincts.  Even  the  dead  body  of  her 
son  would  not  only  whet  her  appetite  for 
pecuniary  vengeance,  but  give  it  plausibility 
in  the  eyes  of  their  emotional  but  ignorant 
neighbors.  She  had  still  less  to  hope  from 
Julia  Jeffcourt's  more  honest  and  human  in- 
dignation but  equally  bigoted  and  preju- 
diced intelligence.  It  is  true  they  were  only 
women,  and  she  ought  to  have  no  fear  of 
that  physical  revenge  which  Julia  had  spo- 
ken of,  but  she  reflected  that  Miss  Jeff- 
court's  unmistakable  beauty,  and  what  was 
believed  to  be  a  "truly  Southern  spirit," 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       45 

had  gained  her  many  admirers  who  might 
easily  take  her  wrongs  upon  their  shoulders. 
If  her  father  had  only  given  her  that  letter 
before,  she  might  have  stopped  Corbin's 
coming  at  all ;  she  might  even  have  met  him 
in  time  to  hurry  him  and  her  cousin's  pro- 
vocative remains  out  of  the  country.  In  the 
midst  of  these  reflections  she  had  to  pass 
the  little  hillside  cemetery.  It  was  a  spot 
of  great  natural  beauty,  cypress-shadowed 
and  luxuriant. ^  It  was  justly  celebrated  in 
Pineville,  and,  but  for  its  pretentious  tomb- 
stones, might  have  been  peaceful  and  sugges- 
tive. Here  she  recognized  a  figure  just  turn- 
ing from  its  gate.  It  was  Julia  Jeffcourt. 

Her  first  instinct  —  that  she  was  too  late 
and  that  her  cousin  had  come  to  the  ceme- 
tery to  make  some  arrangements  for  the  im- 
pending burial  —  was,  however,  quickly  dis- 
sipated by  the  young  girl's  manner. 

"  Well,  Sally  Dows,  you  here  !  who  'd  have 
thought  of  seeing  you  to-day  ?  Why,  Chet 
Brooks  allowed  that  you  danced  every  set 
last  night  and  did  n't  get  home  till  daylight. 
And  you  —  you  that  are  going  to  show  up  at 
another  party  to-night  too  !  Well,  I  reckon 
I  have  n't  got  that  much  ambition  these  times. 
And  out  with  your  new  bonnet  too." 


46       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

There  was  a  slight  curl  of  her  handsome  lip 
as  she  looked  at  her  cousin.  She  was  cer- 
tainly a  more  beautiful  girl  than  Miss  Sally ; 
very  tall,  dark  and  luminous  of  eye,  with  a 
brunette  pallor  of  complexion,  suggesting,  it 
was  said,  that  remote  mixture  of  blood  which 
was  one  of  the  unproven  counts  of  Miss  Mi- 
randa's indictment  against  her  family.  Miss 
Sally  smiled  sweetly  behind  her  big  bow. 
"  If  you  reckon  to  tie  to  everything  that 
Chet  Brooks  says,  you  '11  want  lots  of  string, 
and  you  won't  be  safe  then.  You  ought  to 
have  heard  him  run  on  about  this  one,  and 
that  one,  and  that  other  one,  not  an  hour 
ago  in  our  parlor.  I  had  to  pack  him  off, 
saying  he  was  even  making  Judy's  niggers 
tired."  She  stopped  and  added  with  polite 
languor,  "  I  suppose  there 's  no  news  up  at 
yo'  house  either  ?  Everything 's  going  on  as 
usual  —  and  —  you  get  yo'  California  draft 
regularly?" 

A  good  deal  of  the  white  of  Julia's 
beautiful  eyes  showed  as  she  turned  indig- 
nantly on  the  speaker.  "I  wish,  cousin 
Sally,  you'd  just  let  up  talking  to  me  about 
that  money.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
I  allowed  to  maw  I  would  n't  take  a  cent  of 
it  from  the  first !  I  might  have  had  all  the 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLVS   CLIENT.      47 

gowns  and  bonnets  "  -  with  a  look  at  Miss 
Sally's  bows  —  "I  wanted  from  her  ;  she  even 
offered  to  take  me  to  St.  Louis  for  a  rig-out 
—  if  I  'd  been  willing  to  take  blood  money.- 
But  I  'd  rather  stick  to  this  old  sleazy 
mou'nin'  for  Tom"  —  she  gave  a  dramatic 
pluck  at  her  faded  black  skirt  —  "  than  flaunt 
round  in  white  muslins  and  China  silks  at  ten 
dollars  a  yard,  paid  for  by  his  murderer." 

".You  know  black's  yo'  color  always, — 
taking  in  your  height  and  complexion,  Jule," 
said  Miss  Sally  demurely,  yet  not  without  a 
feminine  consciousness  that  it  really  did  set 
off  her  cousin's  graceful  figure  to  perfection. 
"  But  you  can't  keep  up  this  gait  always. 
You  know  some  day  you  might  come  upon 
this  Mr.  Corbin." 

"  He  'd  better  not  cross  my  path,"  she  said 
passionately. 

"  I  've  heard  girls  talk  like  that  about  a 
man  and  then  get  just  green  and  yellow 
after  him,"  said  Miss  Sally  critically.  "  But 
goodness  me !  speaking  of  meeting  people 
reminds  me  I  clean  forgot  to  stop  at  the 
stage  office  and  see  about  bringing  over  the 
new  overseer.  Lucky  I  met  you,  Jule ! 
Good -by,  dear.  Come  in  to-night,  and 
we  '11  all  go  to  the  party  together."  And 


48       COLONEL  STAEBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

with  a  little  nod  she  ran  off  before  her  in- 
dignant cousin  could  frame  a  suitably  crush- 
ing reply  to  her  Parthian  insinuation. 

But  at  the  stage  office  Miss  Sally  only 
wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  card,  put  it  in  an  en- 
velope, which  she  addressed  to  Mr.  Joseph 
Cor  bin,  and  then  seating  herself  with  easy 
carelessness  on  a  long  packing-box,  languidly 
summoned  the  proprietor. 

"You  're  always  on  hand  yourself  at 
Kirby  station  when  the  kyars  come  in  to 
bring  passengers  to  Pineville,  Mr.  Sledge  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss." 

"  Yo'  have  n't  brought  any  strangers  over 
lately?" 

"  Well,  last  week  Squire  Farnham  of 
Green  Kidge  —  if  he  kin  be  called  a  stran- 
ger —  as  used  to  live  in  the  very  house  yo' 
father  "- 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Miss  Sally,  impa- 
tiently, "  but  if  an  entire  stranger  comes  to 
take  a  seat  for  Pineville,  you  ask  him  if 
that's  his  name,"  handing  the  letter,  "and 
give  it  to  him  if  it  is.  And  —  Mr.  Sledge  — 
it 's  nobody's  business  but  —  yours  and  mine." 

"  I  understand,  Miss  Sally,"  with  a  slow, 
paternal,  tolerating  wink.  "  He  '11  get  it, 
and  nobody  else,  sure." 


COLONEL  STARBOTTL&S   CLIENT.       49 

"  Thank  you ;  I  hope  Mrs.  Sledge  is  get- 
ting round  again." 

"Pow'fully,  Miss  Sally." 

Having  thus,  as  she  hoped,  stopped  the 
arrival  of  the  unhappy  Corbin,  Miss  Sally 
returned  home  to  consider  the  best  means  of 
finally  disposing  of  him.  She  had  insisted 
upon  his  stopping  at  Kirby  and  holding  no 
communication  with  the  Jeffcourts  until  he 
heard  from  her,  and  had  strongly  pointed 
out  the  hopeless  infelicity  of  his  plan.  She 
dare  not  tell  her  Aunt  Miranda,  knowing 
that  she  would  be  too  happy  to  precipitate 
an  interview  that  would  terminate  disas- 
trously to  both  the  Jeffcourts  and  Corbin. 
She  might  have  to  take  her  father  into  her 
confidence,  —  a  dreadful  contingency. 

She  was  dressed  for  the  evening  party, 
which  was  provincially  early ;  indeed,  it  was 
scarcely  past  nine  o'clock  when  she  had 
finished  her  toilet,  when  there  came  a  rap 
at  her  door.  It  was  one  of  Mammy  Judy's 
children. 

"  Dey  is  a  gemplum,  Miss  Sally." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Miss  Sally,  impatiently, 
thinking  only  of  her  escort.  "  I  '11  be  there 
in  a  minute.  Run  away.  He  can  wait." 

"  And  he  said  I  was  to  guv  yo'  dis  yer," 


50       COLONEL  STARSOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

continued  the  little  negro  with  portentous 
gravity,  presenting  a  card. 

Miss  Sally  took  it  with  a  smile.  It  was  a 
plain  card  on  which  was  written  with  a 
pencil  in  a  hand  she  hurriedly  recognized, 
"  Joseph  Corbin." 

Miss  Sally's  smile  became  hysterically 
rigid,  and  pushing  the  boy  aside  with  a  little 
cry,  she  darted  along  the  veranda  and  en- 
tered the  parlor  from  a  side  door  and  ves- 
tibule. To  her  momentary  relief  she  saw 
that  her  friends  had  not  yet  arrived:  a 
single  figure  —  a  stranger's  —  rose  as  she 
entered. 

Even  in  her  consternation  she  had  time 
to  feel  the  added  shock  of  disappointment. 
She  had  always  present  in  her  mind  an  ideal 
picture  of  this  man  whom  she  had  never 
seen  or  even  heard  described.  Joseph  Cor- 
bin had  been  tall,  dark,  with  flowing  hair 
and  long  mustache.  He  had  flashing  fiery 
eyes  which  were  capable  of  being  subdued 
by  a  single  glance  of  gentleness  —  her  own. 
He  was  tempestuous,  quick,  and  passionate, 
but  in  quarrel  would  be  led  by  a  smile. 
He  was  a  combination  of  an  Italian  brigand 
and  a  poker  player  whom  she  had  once  met 
on  a  Mississippi  steamboat.  He  would  wear 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       51 

a  broad-brimmed  soft  hat,  a  red  shirt,  show- 
ing his  massive  throat  and  neck  —  and  high 
boots !  Alas !  the  man  before  her  was  of 
medium  height,  with  light  close-cut  hair, 
hollow  cheeks  that  seemed  to  have  been 
lately  scraped  with  a  razor,  and  light  gray 
troubled  eyes.  A  suit  of  cheap  black,  ill 
fitting,  hastily  acquired,  and  provincial  even 
for  Pineville,  painfully  set  off  these  imperfec- 
tions, to  which  a  white  cravat  in  a  hopelessly 
tied  bow  was  superadded.  A  terrible  idea 
that  this  combination  of  a  country  under- 
taker and  an  ill-paid  circuit  preacher  on 
probation  was  his  best  holiday  tribute  to  her, 
and  not  a  funeral  offering  to  Mr.  Jeffcourt, 
took  possession  of  her.  And  when,  with 
feminine  quickness,  she  saw  his  eyes  wan- 
der over  her  own  fine  clothes  and  festal  fig- 
ure, and  sink  again  upon  the  floor  in  a  kind 
of  hopeless  disappointment  equal  to  her  own, 
she  felt  ready  to  cry.  But  the  more  terrible 
sound  of  laughter  approaching  the  house 
from  the  garden  recalled  her.  Her  friends 
were  coining. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,"  she  broke  out  des- 
perately, "didn't  you  get  my  note  at  the 
station  telling  you  not  to  come  ?  " 

His  face  grew  darker,  and  then  took  up 


52       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

its  look  of  hopeless  resignation,  as  if  this 
last  misfortune  was  only  an  accepted  part 
of  his  greater  trouble,  as  he  sat  down  again, 
and  to  Miss  Sally's  horror,  listlessly  swung 
his  hat  to  and  fro  under  his  chair. 

"  No,"  he  said,  gloomily,  "  I  did  n't  go  to 
no  station.  I  walked  here  all  the  way  from 
Shelby ville.  I  thought  it  might  seem  more 
like  the  square  thing  to  her  for  me  to  do. 
I  sent  him  by  express  ahead  in  the  box. 
It 's  been  at  the  stage  office  all  day." 

With  a  sickening  conviction  that  she  had 
been  sitting  on  her  cousin's  body  while  she 
wrote  that  ill-fated  card,  the  young  girl  man- 
aged to  gasp  out  impatiently  :  "  But  you 
must  go  —  yes  —  go  now,  at  once  !  Don't 
talk  now,  but  go." 

"I  didn't  come  here,"  he  said,  rising 
with  a  kind  of  slow  dignity,  "to  interfere 
with  things  I  did  n't  kalkilate  to  see,"  glan- 
cing again  at  her  dress,  as  the  voices  came 
nearer,  "  and  that  I  ain't  in  touch  with,  — 
but  to  know  if  you  think  I  'd  better  bring 
him  —  or  "  — 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  for  the 
door  had  opened  suddenly,  and  a  half-dozen 
laughing  girls  and  their  escorts  burst  into 
the  room.  But  among  them,  a  little  haughty 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       53 

and  still  irritated  from  her  last  interview, 
was  her  cousin  Julia  Jeffcourt,  erect  and 
beautiful  in  a  sombre  silk. 

"  Go,"  repeated  Miss  Sally,  in  an  ago- 
nized whisper.  "  You  must  not  be  known 
here." 

But  the  attention  of  Julia  had  been  ar- 
rested by  her  cousin's  agitation,  and  her  eye 
fell  on  Corbin,  where  it  was  fixed  with  some 
fatal  fascination  that  seemed  in  turn  to  en- 
thrall and  possess  him  also.  To  Miss  Sally's 
infinite  dismay  the  others  fell  back  and  al- 
lowed these  two  black  figures  to  stand  out, 
then  to  move  towards  each  other  with  the 
same  terrible  magnetism.  They  were  so 
near  she  could  not  repeat  her  warning  to 
him  without  the  others  hearing  it.  And  all 
hope  died  when  Corbin,  turning  deliberately 
towards  her  with  a  grave  gesture  in  the  di- 
rection of  Julia,  said  quietly  :  — 

"  Interduce  me." 

Miss  Sally  hesitated,  and  then  gasped 
hastily,  "  Miss  Jeffcourt." 

"  Yer  don't  say  my  name.  Tell  her  I  'm 
Joseph  Corbin  of  'Frisco,  California,  who 
killed  her  brother."  He  stopped  and  turned 
towards  her.  "  I  came  here  to  try  and  fix 
things  again  —  and  I  've  brought  him" 


54       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT. 

In  the  wondering  silence  that  ensued  the 
others  smiled  vacantly,  breathlessly,  and  ex- 
pectantly, until  Corbin  advanced  and  held 
out  his  hand,  when  Julia  Jeffcourt,  drawing 
hers  back  to  her  bosom  with  the  palms  out- 
ward, uttered  an  inarticulate  cry  and  —  and 
spat  in  his  face  ! 

With  that  act  she  found  tongue  —  revil- 
ing him,  the  house  that  harbored  him,  the 
insolence  that  presented  him,  the  insult  that 
had  been  put  upon  her  !  "  Are  you  men  !  " 
she  added  passionately,  "  who  stand  here 
with  the  man  before  you  that  killed  my 
brother,  and  see  him  offer  me  his  filthy  vil- 
lainous hand  —  and  dare  not  strike  him 
down !  " 

And  they  dared  not.  Violently,  blindly, 
stupidly  moved  through  all  their  instincts, 
though  they  gathered  hysterically  around 
him,  there  was  something  in  his  dull  self- 
containment  that  was  unassailable  and  awful. 
For  he  wiped  his  face  and  breast  with  his 
handkerchief  without  a  tremor,  and  turned 
to  them  with  even  a  suggestion  of  relief. 

"  She 's  right,  gentlemen,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  She 's  right.  It  might  have  been  otherwise. 
I  might  have  allowed  that  it  might  be  other- 
wise, —  but  she 's  right.  I  'm  a  Soth'n  man 


COLONEL  STAJKBOTTLE'S  CLIENT.       55 

myself,  gentlemen,  and  I  reckon  to  under- 
stand what  she  has  done.  I  killed  the  only 
man  that  had  a  right  to  stand  up  for  her, 
and  she  has  now  to  stand  up  for  herself. 
But  if  she  wants  —  and  you  see  she  allows 
she  wants  —  to  pass  that  on  to  some  of 
you,  or  all  of  you,  I  'm  willing.  As  many 
as  you  like,  and  in  what  way  you  like  —  I 
waive  any  chyce  of  weapon  —  I  'm  ready, 
gentlemen.  I  came  here  —  with  him  —  for 
that  purpose." 

Perhaps  it  may  have  been  his  fateful 
resignation ;  perhaps  it  may  have  been  his 
exceeding  readiness,  —  but  there  was  no 
response.  He  sat  down  again,  and  again 
swung  his  hat  slowly  and  gloomily  to  and 
fro  under  his  chair. 

"I've  got  him  in  a  box  at  the  stage  of- 
fice," he  went  on,  apparently  to  the  carpet. 
"  I  had  him  dug  up  that  I  might  bring  him 
here,  and  mebbe  bury  some  of  the  trouble 
and  difference  along  with  his  friends.  It 
might  be,"  he  added,  with  a  slightly  glow- 
ering upward  glance,  as  to  an  overruling, 
but  occasionally  misdirecting  Providence,  — 
44  it  might  be  from  the  way  things  are  piling 
up  on  me  that  some  one  might  have  rung  in 
another  corpse  instead  o'  him,  but  so  far  as 


56       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

I  can  judge,  allowin'  for  the  space  of  time 
and  nat'ral  wear  and  tear  —  it's  him!" 

He  rose  slowly  and  moved  towards  the 
door  in  a  silence  that  was  as  much  the  result 
of  some  conviction  that  any  violent  demon- 
stration against  him  would  be  as  grotesque 
and  monstrous  as  the  situation,  as  of  any- 
thing he  had  said.  Even  the  flashing  indig- 
nation of  Julia  Jeffcourt  seemed  to  become 
suddenly  as  unnatural  and  incongruous  as 
her  brother's  chief  mourner  himself,  and 
although  she  shrank  from  his  passing  figure 
she  uttered  no  word.  Chester  Brooks's 
youthful  emotions,  following  the  expression 
of  Miss  Sally's  face,  lost  themselves  in  a 
vague  hysteric  smile,  and  the  other  gentle- 
men looked  sheepish.  Joseph  Corbin  halted 
at  the  door. 

"  Whatever,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  com- 
pany, "  ye  make  up  your  mind  to  do  about 
me,  I  reckon  ye  'd  better  do  it  after  the 
funeral.  Tm  always  ready.  But  Ae,  what 
with  being  in  a  box  and  changing  climate, 
had  better  go  first"  He  paused,  and  with 
a  suggestion  of  delicacy  in  the  momentary 
dropping  of  his  eyelids,  added,  —  "  for 
reasons" 

He  passed  out  through  the  door,  on  to 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       57 

the  portico  and  thence  into  the  garden.  It 
was  noticed  at  the  time  that  the  half-dozen 
hounds  lingering  there  rushed  after  him  with 
their  usual  noisy  demonstrations,  but  that 
they  as  suddenly  stopped,  retreated  violently 
to  the  security  of  the  basement,  and  there 
gave  relief  to  their  feelings  in  a  succession 
of  prolonged  howls. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Miss  Sally 
did  not  feel  some  contrition  over  the  ineffec- 
tive part  she  had  played  in  this  last  episode. 
But  Joseph  Corbin  had  committed  the  un- 
pardonable sin  to  a  woman  of  destroying  her 
own  illogical  ideas  of  him,  which  was  worse 
than  if  he  had  affronted  the  preconceived 
ideas  of  others,  in  which  case  she  might  still 
defend  him.  Then,  too,  she  was  no  longer 
religious,  and  had  no"  call  "  to  act  as  peace- 
maker. Nevertheless  she  resented  Julia 
Jeffcourt's  insinuations  bitterly,  and  the 
cousins  quarreled  —  not  the  first  time  in 
their  intercourse  —  and  it  was  reserved  for 
the  latter  to  break  the  news  of  Corbin's  ar- 
rival with  the  body  to  Mrs.  Jeff  court. 

How  this  was  done  and  what  occurred  at 
that  interview  has  not  been  recorded.  But 
it  was  known  the  next  day  that,  while  Mrs. 
Jeffcourt  accepted  the  body  at  Corbin's 
hands,  —  and  it  is  presumed  the  funeral  ex- 
penses also,  —  he  was  positively  forbidden 


COLONEL  STAKBOTTLE'S  CLIENT.       59 

to  appear  either  at  the  services  at  the  house 
or  at  the  church.  There  had  been  some 
wild  talk  among  the  younger  and  many  of 
the  lower  members  of  the  community,  no- 
tably the  "poor"  non-slave-holding  whites, 
of  tarring  and  feathering  Joseph  Corbin, 
and  riding  him  on  a  rail  out  of  the  town  on 
the  day  of  the  funeral,  as  a  propitiatory  sac- 
rifice to  the  manes  of  Thomas  Jeffcourt ;  but 
it  being  pointed  out  by  the  undertaker  that 
it  might  involve  some  uncertainty  in  the  set- 
tlement of  his  bill,  together  with  some  rea- 
sonable doubt  of  the  thorough  resignation  of 
Corbin,  whose  previous  momentary  aberra- 
tion in  that  respect  they  were  celebrating, 
the  project  was  postponed  until  after  the 
funeral.  And  here  an  unlooked-for  inci- 
dent occurred. 

There  was  to  be  a  political  meeting  at 
Kirby  on  that  day,  when  certain  distin- 
guished Southern  leaders  had  gathered  from 
the  remoter  Southern  States.  At  the  insti- 
gation of  Captain  Dows  it  was  adjourned  at 
the  hour  of  the  funeral  to  enable  members 
to  attend,  and  it  was  even  rumored,  to  the 
great  delight  of  Pineville,  that  a  distin- 
guished speaker  or  two  might  come  over 
to  "  improve  the  occasion  "  with  some  slight 


60       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

allusion  to  the  engrossing  topic  of  "  South- 
ern Rights."  This  combined  appeal  to  the 
domestic  and  political  emotions  of  Pine- 
ville  was  irresistible.  The  Second  Baptist 
Church  was  crowded.  After  the  religious 
service  there  was  a  pause,  and  Judge  Reed, 
stepping  forward  amid  a  breathless  silence, 
said  that  they  were  peculiarly  honored  by  the 
unexpected  presence  in  their  midst  "  of  that 
famous  son  of  the  South,  Colonel  Starbottle," 
who  had  lately  returned  to  his  native  soil 
from  his  adopted  home  in  California.  Every 
eye  was  fixed  on  the  distinguished  stranger 
as  he  rose. 

Jaunty  and  gallant  as  ever,  femininely 
smooth-faced,  yet  polished  and  high  colored 
as  a  youthful  mask;  pectorally  expansive, 
and  unfolding  the  white  petals  of  his  waist- 
coat through  the  swollen  lapels  of  his  coat, 
like  a  bursting  magnolia  bud,  Colonel  Star- 
bottle  began.  The  present  associations  were, 
he  might  say,  singularly  hallowed  to  him ; 
not  only  was  Pineville  —  a  Southern  centre 
—  the  recognized  nursery  of  Southern  chiv- 
alry, Southern  beauty  (a  stately  inclination 
to  the  pew  in  which  Miss  Sally  and  Julia 
Jeffcourt  sat),  Southern  intelligence,  and 
Southern  independence,  but  it  was  the  home 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT.       61 

of  the  lamented  dead  who  had  been,  like 
himself  and  another  he  should  refer  to  later, 
an  adopted  citizen  of  the  Golden  State,  a 
seeker  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  a  companion  of 
Jason.  It  was  the  home,  fellow-citizens  and 
friends,  of  the  sorrowing  sister  of  the  de- 
ceased, a  young  lady  whom  he,  the  speaker, 
had  as  yet  known  only  through  the  chival- 
rous blazon  of  her  virtues  and  graces  by  her 
attendant  knights  (a  courteous  wave  to- 
wards the  gallery  where  Joyce  Masterton, 
Chester  Brooks,  Calhoun  Bungstarter,  and 
the  embattled  youth  generally  of  Pineville 
became  empurpled  and  idiotic)  ;  it  was  the 
home  of  the  afflicted  widowed  mother,  also 
personally  unknown  to  him,  but  with  whom 
he  might  say  he  had  had  —  er  —  er  —  pro- 
fessional correspondence.  But  it  was  not 
this  alone  that  hallowed  the  occasion,  it  was 
a  sentiment  that  should  speak  in  trumpet- 
like  tones  throughout  the  South  in  this 
uprising  of  an  united  section.  It  was  the 
forgetfulness  of  petty  strife,  of  family  feud, 
of  personal  wrongs  in  the  claims  of  party ! 
It  might  not  be  known  that  he,  the  speaker, 
was  professionally  cognizant  of  one  of  these 
regrettable  —  should  he  say  accidents  ?  — 
arising  from  the  chivalrous  challenge  and 


62       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT. 

equally  chivalrous  response  of  two  fiery 
Southern  spirits,  to  which  they  primarily  owe 
their  coming  here  that  day.  And  he  should 
take  it  as  his  duty,  his  solemn  duty,  in  that 
sacred  edifice  to  proclaim  to  the  world  that 
in  his  knowledge  as  a  professional  man  —  as 
a  man  of  honor,  as  a  Southerner,  as  a  gentle- 
man, that  the  —  er  —  circumstances  which 
three  years  ago  led  to  the  early  demise  of 
our  lamented  friend  and  brother,  reflected 
only  the  highest  credit  equally  on  both  of 
the  parties.  He  said  this  on  his  own  re- 
sponsibility —  in  or  out  of  this  sacred  edifice 
—  and  in  or  out  of  that  sacre'd  edifice  he 
was  personally  responsible,  and  prepared  to 
give  the  fullest  satisfaction  for  it.  He  was 
also  aware  that  it  might  not  be  known  — 
or  understood  —  that  since  that  boyish  epi- 
sode the  survivor  had  taken  the  place  of  the 
departed  in  the  bereaved  family  and  min- 
istered to  their  needs  with  counsel  and  — 
er  —  er  —  pecuniary  aid,  and  had  followed 
the  body  afoot  across  the  continent  that  it 
might  rest  with  its  kindred  dust.  He  was 
aware  that  an  unchristian  —  he  would  say 
but  for  that  sacred  edifice  —  a  dastardly 
attempt  had  been  made  to  impugn  the  sur- 
vivor's motives  —  to  suggest  an  unseemly 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       68 

discord  between  him  and  the  family,  but  he, 
the  speaker,  would  never  forget  the  letter 
breathing  with  Christian  forgiveness  and 
replete  with  angelic  simplicity  sent  by  a 
member  of  that  family  to  his  client,  which 
came  under  his  professional  eye  (here  the 
professional  eye  for  a  moment  lingered  on 
the  hysteric  face  of  Miss  Sally)  ;  he  did  not 
envy  the  head  or  heart  of  a  man  who  could 
peruse  these  lines  —  of  which  the  mere  rec- 
ollection —  er  —  er  —  choked  the  utterance 
of  even  a  professional  man  like  —  er  —  him- 
self—  without  emotion.  "  And  what,  my 
friends  and  fellow  -  citizens,"  suddenly  con- 
tinued the  Colonel,  replacing  his  white  hand- 
kerchief in  his  coat-tail,  "was  the  reason 
why  my  client,  Mr.  Joseph  Corbin  —  whose 
delicacy  keeps  him  from  appearing  among 
these  mourners  —  comes  here  to  bury  all 
differences,  all  animosities,  all  petty  pas- 
sions? Because  he  is  a  son  of  the  South; 
because  as  a  son  of  the  South,  as  the  repre- 
sentative, and  a  distant  connection,  I  believe, 
of  my  old  political  friend,  Major  Corbin,  of 
Nashville,  he  wishes  here  and  everywhere, 
at  this  momentous  crisis,  to  sink  everything 
in  the  one  all-pervading,  all-absorbing,  one 
and  indivisible  unity  of  the  South  in  its 


64       COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

resistance  to  the  Northern  Usurper  !  That, 
my  friends,  is  the  great,  the  solemn,  the 
Christian  lesson  of  this  most  remarkable 
occasion  in  my  professional,  political,  and 
social  experience." 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  calmer 
opinion,  there  was  no  doubt  that  the  gallant 
Colonel  had  changed  the  prevailing  illogical 
emotion  of  Pineville  by  the  substitution  of 
another  equally  illogical,  and  Miss  Sally  was 
not  surprised  when  her  father,  touched  by 
the  Colonel's  allusion  to  his  daughter's  epis- 
tolary powers,  insisted  upon  bringing  Joseph 
Corbin  home  with  him,  and  offering  him  the 
hospitality  of  the  Dows  mansion.  Although 
the  stranger  seemed  to  yield  rather  from  the 
fact  that  the  Dows  were  relations  of  the  Jeff- 
courts  than  from  any  personal  preference, 
when  he  was  fairly  installed  in  one  of  the 
appropriately  gloomy  guest  chambers,  Miss 
Sally  set  about  the  delayed  work  of  recon- 
ciliation—  theoretically  accepted  by  her  fa- 
ther, and  cynically  tolerated  by  her  Aunt 
Miranda.  But  here  a  difficulty  arose  which 
she  had  not  foreseen.  Although  Corbin  had 
evidently  forgiven  her  defection  on  that 
memorable  evening,  he  had  not  apparently 
got  over  the  revelation  of  her  giddy  worldli- 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLFSS   CLIENT.      65 

ness,  and  was  resignedly  apathetic  and  dis- 
trustful of  her  endeavors.  She  was  at  first 
amused,  and  then  angry.  And  her  patience 
was  exhausted  when  she  discovered  that  he 
actually  seemed  more  anxious  to  conciliate 
Julia  Jeffcourt  than  her  mother. 

"  But  she  spat  in  your  face,"  she  said, 
indignantly. 

"  That 's  so,"  he  replied,  gloomily ;  "  but  I 
reckoned  you  said  something  in  one  of  your 
letters  about  turning  the  other  cheek  when 
you  were  smitten.  Of  course,  as  you  don't 
believe  it  now,"  he  added  with  his  upward 
glance,  "  I  suppose  that 's  been  played  on  me, 
too." 

But  here  Miss  Sally's  spirit  lazily  re- 
belled. 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Joseph  Jeremiah  Cor- 
bin,"  she  returned  with  languid  imperti- 
nence, "  if  instead  of  cavortin'  round  on  yo' 
knees  trying  to  conciliate  an  old  woman 
who  never  had  a  stroke  of  luck  till  you 
killed  her  son,  and  a  young  girl  who  won't 
be  above  letting  on  afore  you  think  it  that 
your  conciliatin'  her  means  sparlciri1  her  ; 
if  instead  of  that  foolishness  you  'd  turn  your 
hand  to  trying  to  conciliate  the  folks  here 
and  keep  'em  from  going  into  that  fool's  act 


66       COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

of  breaking  up  these  United  States ;  if  in- 
stead of  digging  up  second-hand  corpses 
that 's  already  been  put  out  of  sight  once 
you  'd  set  to  work  to  try  and  prevent  the 
folks  about  here  from  digging  up  their  old 
cranks  and  their  old  whims,  and  their  old 
women  fancies,  you'd  be  doing  something 
like  a  Christian  and  a  man  !  What 's  yo' 
blood-guiltiness  —  I  'd  like  to  know  —  along- 
side of  the  blood-guiltiness  of  those  fools  who 
are  just  wild  to  rush  into  it,  led  by  such 
turkey  -  cocks  as  yo'  friend  Colonel  Star- 
bottle?  And  you  've  been  five  years  in 
California  —  a  free  State  —  and  that's  all 
yo'  've  toted  out  of  it  —  a  dead  body !  There 
now,  don't  sit  there  and  swing  yo'  hat  under 
that  chyar,  but  rouse  out  and  come  along 
with  me  to  the  pawty  if  you  can  shake  a 
foot,  and  show  Miss  Pinkney  and  the  gyrls 
yo'  fit  for  something  mo'  than  to  skirmish 
round  as  a  black  japanned  spittoon  for  Julia 
Jeffcourt !  "  It  is  not  recorded  that  Corbin 
accepted  this  cheerful  invitation,  but  for  a 
few  days  afterwards  he  was  more  darkly 
observant  of,  and  respectful  to,  Miss  Sally. 
Strange  indeed  if  he  had  not  noticed  —  al- 
though always  in  his  resigned  fashion  — the 
dull  green  stagnation  of  the  life  around  him, 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       67 

or  when  not  accepting  it  as  part  of  his 
trouble  he  had  not  chafed  at  the  arrested 
youth  and  senile  childishness  of  the  people. 
Stranger  still  if  he  had  not  at  times  been 
startled  to  hear  the  outgrown  superstitions 
and  follies  of  his  youth  voiced  again  by 
grown-up  men,  and  perhaps  strangest  of  all 
if  he  had  not  vaguely  accepted  it  all  as  the 
hereditary  curse  of  that  barbarism  under 
which  he  himself  had  survived  and  suffered. 
The  reconciliation  between  himself  and 
Mrs.  Jeffcourt  was  superficially  effected,  so 
far  as  a  daily  visit  by  him  to  the  house  indi- 
cated it  to  the  community,  but  it  was  also 
known  that  Julia  was  invariably  absent  on 
these  occasions.  What  happened  at  those 
interviews  did  not  transpire,  but  it  may  be 
surmised  that  Mrs.  Jeffcourt,  perhaps  recog- 
nizing the  fact  that  Corbin  was  really  giving 
her  all  that  he  had  to  give,  or  possibly  hav- 
ing some  lurking  fear  of  Colonel  Starbottle, 
was  so  far  placated  as  to  exhibit  only  the 
average  ingratitude  of  her  species  towards 
a  regular  benefactor.  She  consented  to  the 
erection  of  a  small  obelisk  over  her  son's 
grave,  and  permitted  Corbin  to  plant  a  few 
flowering  shrubs,  which  he  daily  visited  and 
took  care  of.  It  is  said  that  on  one  of  these 


68       COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

pilgrimages  he  encountered  Miss  Julia, 
apparently  on  the  same  errand,  who  haugh- 
tily retired.  It  was  further  alleged,  on  the 
authority  of  one  of  Mammy  Judy's  little 
niggers,  that  those  two  black  mourning  fig- 
ures had  been  seen  at  nightfall  sitting  oppo- 
site to  each  other  at  the  head  and  foot  of 
the  grave,  and  "  glowerin'  "  at  one  another 
"  like  two  hants."  But  when  it  was  asserted 
on  the  same  authority  that  their  voices  had 
been  later  overheard  uplifted  in  some  vehe- 
ment discussion  over  the  grave  of  the  im- 
passive dead,  great  curiosity  was  aroused. 
Being  pressed  by  the  eager  Miss  Sally  to 
repeat  some  words  or  any  words  he  had 
heard  them  say,  the  little  witness  glibly 
replied,  "  Marse  Linkum  "  (Lincoln),  and 
"The  Souf,"  and  so,  for  the  time,  ship- 
wrecked his  testimony.  But  it  was  recalled 
six  months  afterwards.  It  was  then  that 
a  pleasant  spring  day  brought  madness  and 
enthusiasm  to  a  majority  of  Pineville,  and 
bated  breath  and  awe  to  a  few,  and  it  was 
known  with  the  tidings  that  the  South  had 
appealed  to  arms,  that  among  those  who 
had  first  responded  to  the  call  was  Joseph 
Corbin,  an  alleged  "  Union  man,"  who  had, 
however,  volunteered  to  take  that  place  in 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       69 

her  ranks  which  might  have  been  felled  by 
the  man  he  had  killed.  And  then  people 
forgot  all  about  him. 

A  year  passed.  It  was  the  same  place ; 
the  old  familiar  outlines  of  home  and  garden 
and  landscape.  But  seen  now,  in  the  chok- 
ing breathlessness  of  haste,  in  the  fitful 
changing  flashes  of  life  and  motion  around 
it,  in  intervals  of  sharp  suspense  or  dazed 
bewilderment,  it  seemed  to  be  recognized  no 
longer.  Men  who  had  known  it  all  their 
lives,  hurrying  to  the  front  in  compact 
masses,  scurrying  to  the  rear  in  straggling 
line,  or  opening  their  ranks  to  let  artillery 
gallop  by,  stared  at  it  vaguely,  and  clattered 
or  scrambled  on  again.  The  smoke  of  a 
masked  battery  in  the  woods  struggled  and 
writhed  to  free  itself  from  the  clinging  tree- 
tops  behind  it,  and  sank  back  into  a  gray 
encompassing  cloud.  The  dust  thrown  up 
by  a  column  of  passing  horse  poured  over 
the  wall  in  one  long  wave,  and  whitened  the 
garden  with  its  ashes.  Throughout  the  dim 
empty  house  one  no  longer  heard  the  sound 
of  cannon,  only  a  dull  intermittent  concus- 
sion was  felt,  silently  bringing  flakes  of 
plaster  from  the  walls,  or  sliding  fragments 


70       COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

of  glass  from  the  shattered  windows.  A  shell, 
lifted  from  the  ominous  distance,  hung  un- 
certain in  the  air  and  then  descended  swiftly 
through  the  roof ;  the  whole  house  dilated 
with  flame  for  an  instant,  smoke  rolled  slowly 
from  the  windows,  and  even  the  desolate 
chimneys  started  into  a  hideous  mockery  of 
life,  and  then  all  was  still  again.  At  such 
awful  intervals  the  sun  shone  out  brightly, 
touched  the  green  of  the  still  sleeping  woods 
and  the  red  and  white  of  a  flower  in  the  gar- 
den, and  something  in  a  gray  uniform  writhed 
out  of  the  dust  of  the  road,  staggered  to  the 
wall,  and  died. 

A  mile  down  this  road,  growing  more  and 
more  obscure  with  those  rising  and  falling 
apparitions  or  the  shapeless  and  rugged 
heaps  terrible  in  their  helpless  inertia  by 
hedge  and  fence,  arose  the  cemetery  hill. 
Taken  and  retaken  thrice  that  afternoon, 
the  dead  above  it  far  outnumbered  the  dead 
below ;  and  when  at  last  the  tide  of  battle 
swept  around  its  base  into  the  dull,  rever- 
berating woods,  and  it  emerged  from  the 
smoke,  silenced  and  abandoned,  only  a  few 
stragglers  remained.  One  of  them,  leaning 
on  his  musket,  was  still  gloomily  facing  the 
woods. 


COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S  CLIENT.       71 

"Joseph  Corbin,"  said  a  low,  hurried 
voice. 

He  started  and  glanced  quickly  at  the 
tombs  around  him.  Perhaps  it  was  because 
he  had  been  thinking  of  the  dead,  —  but  the 
voice  sounded  like  his.  Yet  it  was  only  the 
sister,  who  had  glided,  pale  and  haggard, 
from  the  thicket. 

"  They  are  coming  through  the  woods," 
she  said  quickly.  "  Run,  or  you  '11  be  taken. 
Why  do  you  linger  ?  " 

"  You  know  why,"  he  said  gloomily. 

"  Yes,  but  you  have  done  yo'  duty.  You 
have  done  his  work.  The  task  is  finished 
now,  and  yo'  free." 

He  did  not  reply,  but  remained  gazing  at 
the  woods. 

"  Joseph,"  she  said  more  gently,  laying 
her  trembling  hand  on  his  arm,  "Joseph, 
fly  —  and  —  take  me  with  you.  For  I  was 
wrong,  and  I  want  you  to  forgive  me.  I 
knew  your  heart  was  not  in  this,  and  I  ought 
not  to  have  asked  you.  Joseph  —  listen ! 
I  never  wanted  to  avenge  myself  nor  him 
when  I  spat  on  your  face.  I  wanted  to 
avenge  myself  on  her.  I  hated  her,  because 
I  thought  she  wanted  to  work  upon  you  and 
use  you  for  herself." 


72       COLONEL  8TARBOTTLE\S   CLIENT. 

"  Your  mother,"  he  said,  looking  at  her. 

"  No,"  she  said,  with  widely  opened  eyes  ; 
"  you  know  who  I  mean  —  Miss  Sally." 

He  looked  at  her  wonderingly  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  quickly  bent  his  head  again  in  the 
direction  of  the  road.  "  They  are  coming," 
he  said,  starting.  "  You  must  go.  This  is 
no  place  for  you.  Stop  !  it 's  too  late ;  you 
cannot  go  now  until  they  have  passed. 
Come  here  —  crouch  down  here  —  over  this 
grave  —  so." 

He  almost  forced  her  —  kneeling  down  — 
upon  the  mound  below  the  level  of  the 
shrubs,  and  then  ran  quickly  himself  a  few 
paces  lower  down  the  hill  to  a  more  exposed 
position.  She  understood  it.  He  wished  to 
attract  attention  to  himself.  He  was  suc- 
cessful —  a  few  hurried  shots  followed  from 
the  road,  but  struck  above  him. 

He  clambered  back  quickly  to  where  she 
was  still  crouching. 

"  They  were  the  vedettes,"  he  said,  "  but 
they  have  fallen  back  on  the  main  skirmish 
line  and  will  be  here  in  force  in  a  moment. 
Go  —  while  you  can."  She  had  not  moved. 
He  tried  to  raise  her  —  her  hat  fell  off  —  he 
saw  blood  oozing  from  where  the  vedette's 
bullet  that  had  missed  him  had  pierced  her 
brain. 


COLONEL   STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT.       73 

And  yet  he  saw  in  that  pale  dead  face  only 
the  other  face  which  he  remembered  now  had 
been  turned  like  this  towards  his  own.  It 
was  very  strange.  And  this  was  the  end, 
and  this  was  his  expiation !  He  raised  his 
own  face  humbly,  blindly,  despairingly  to  the 
inscrutable  sky ;  it  looked  back  upon  him 
from  above  as  coldly  as  the  dead  face  had 
from  below. 

Yet  out  of  this  he  struck  a  faint  idea  that 
he  voiced  aloud  in  nearly  the  same  words 
which  he  had  used  to  Colonel  Starbottle 
only  three  years  ago.  "  It  was  with  his  own 
pistol  too,"  he  said,  and  took  up  his  musket. 

He  walked  deliberately  down  the  hill,  oc- 
.casionally  trying  the  stock  of  his  musket  in 
the  loose  earth,  and  at  last  suddenly  re- 
mained motionless,  in  the  attitude  of  leaning 
over  it.  At  the  same  moment  there  was  a 
distant  shout ;  two  thin  parallel  streams  of 
blue  and  steel  came  issuing  through  the 
woods  like  a  river,  appeared  to  join  tumultu- 
ously  in  the  open  before  the  hill,  and  out  of 
the  tumult  a  mounted  officer  called  upon 
him  to  surrender. 

He  did  not  reply. 

"  Come  down  from  there,  Johnny  Reb,  I 
want  to  speak  to  you,"  called  a  young  cor- 
poral. 


74       COLONEL  STARBOTTLE'S   CLIENT. 

He  did  not  move. 

"  It 's  time  to  go  home,  Johnny.  " 

No  response. 

The  officer,  who  had  been  holding  down 
his  men  with  an  unsworded  but  masterful 
hand,  raised  it  suddenly.  A  dozen  shots  fol- 
lowed. The  men  leaped  forward,  and  dash- 
ing Corbin  contemptuously  aside  streamed 
up  the  hill  past  him. 

But  he  had  neither  heard  nor  cared.  For 
they  found  he  had  already  deliberately  trans- 
fixed himself  through  the  heart  on  his  own 
bayonet. 


THE 

POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

CHAPTER   I. 

THE  mail  stage  had  just  passed  Laurel 
Run, — so  rapidly  that  the  whirling  cloud  of 
dust  dragged  with  it  down  the  steep  grade 
from  the  summit  hung  over  the  level  long 
after  the  stage  had  vanished,  and  then,  drift- 
ing away,  slowly  sifted  a  red  precipitate  over 
the  hot  platform  of  the  Laurel  Run  post- 
office. 

Out  of  this  cloud  presently  emerged  the 
neat  figure  of  the  postmistress  with  the  mail- 
bag  which  had  been  dexterously  flung  at  her 
feet  from  the  top  of  the  passing  vehicle.  A 
dozen  loungers  eagerly  stretched  out  their 
hands  to  assist  her,  but  the  warning :  "  It 's 
agin  the  rules,  boys,  for  any  but  her  to  touch 
it,"  from  a  bystander,  and  a  coquettish 
shake  of  the  head  from  the  postmistress  her- 


76     THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

self  —  much  more  effective  than  any  official 
interdict  —  withheld  them.  The  bag  was 
not  heavy,  —  Laurel  Run  was  too  recent  a 
settlement  to  have  attracted  much  corre- 
spondence, —  and  the  young  woman,  having 
pounced  upon  her  prey  with  a  certain  feline 
instinct,  dragged  it,  not  without  difficulty, 
behind  the  partitioned  inclosure  in  the  office, 
and  locked  the  door.  Her  pretty  face,  mo- 
mentarily visible  through  the  window,  was 
slightly  flushed  with  the  exertion,  and  the 
loose  ends  of  her  fair  hair,  wet  with  perspi- 
ration, curled  themselves  over  her  forehead 
into  tantalizing  little  rings.  But  the  win- 
dow shutter  was  quickly  closed,  and  this 
momentary  but  charming  vision  withdrawn 
from  the  waiting  public. 

"  Guv'ment  oughter  have  more  sense  than 
to  make  a  woman  pick  mail-bags  outer  the 
road,"  said  Jo  Simmons  sympathetically. 
"  'T  ain't  in  her  day's  work  anyhow  ;  Guv'- 
ment oughter  hand  'em  over  to  her  like  a 
lady  ;  it 's  rich  enough  and  ugly  enough." 

"  'T  ain't  Guv'ment ;  it 's  that  stage  com- 
pany's airs  and  graces,"  interrupted  a  new- 
comer. "They  think  it  mighty  fine  to  go 
beltin'  by,  makin'  everybody  take  their  dust, 
just  because  stoppin1  ain't  in  their  contract. 


THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN.   77 

Why,  if  that  expressman  who  chucked  down 
the  bag  had  any  feelin's  for  a  lady  "  —  but 
he  stopped  here  at  the  amused  faces  of  his 
auditors. 

"  Guess  you  don't  know  much  o'  that  ex- 
pressman's feelin's,  stranger,"  said  Simmons 
grimly.  u  Why,  you  oughter  see  him  just 
nussin'  that  bag  like  a  baby  as  he  comes 
tearin'  down  the  grade,  and  then  rise  up  and 
sorter  heave  it  to  Mrs.  Baker  ez  if  it  was 
a  five-dollar  bokay !  His  feelin's  for  her  ! 
Why,  he  's  give  himself  so  dead  away  to  her 
that  we're  looking  for  him  to  forget  what 
he's  doin'  next,  and  just  come  sailiii'  down 
hisself  at  her  feet." 

Meanwhile,  on  the  other  side  of  the  parti- 
tion, Mrs.  Baker  had  brushed  the  red  dust 
from  the  padlocked  bag,  and  removed  what 
seemed  to  be  a  supplementary  package  at- 
tached to  it  by  a  wire.  Opening  it  she 
found  a  handsome  scent-bottle,  evidently  a 
superadded  gift  from  the  devoted  express- 
man. This  she  put  aside  with  a  slight  smile 
and  the  murmured  word,  "  Foolishness." 
But  when  she  had  unlocked  the  bag,  even 
its  sacred  interior  was  also  profaned  by  a 
covert  parcel  from  the  adjacent  postmaster 
at  Burnt  Ridge,  containing  a  gold  "speci- 


78     THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

men"  brooch  and  some  circus  tickets.  It 
was  laid  aside  with  the  other.  This  also 
was  vanity  and  —  presumably  —  vexation  of 
spirit. 

There  were  seventeen  letters  in  all,  of 
which  five  were  for  herself  —  and  yet  the 
proportion  was  small  that  morning.  Two 
of  them  were  marked  "Official  Business," 
and  were  promptly  put  by  with  feminine 
discernment;  but  in  another  compartment 
than  that  holding  the  presents.  Then  the 
shutter  was  opened,  and  the  task  of  delivery 
commenced. 

It  was  accompanied  with  a  social  peculiar- 
ity that  had  in  time  become  a  habit  of  Lau- 
rel Run.  As  the  young  woman  delivered 
the  letters,  in  turn,  to  the  men  who  were  pa- 
tiently drawn  up  in  Indian  file,  she  made 
that  simple  act  a  medium  of  privileged  but 
limited  conversation  on  special  or  general 
topics, — gay  or  serious  as  the  case  might  be, 
or  the  temperament  of  the  man  suggested. 
That  it  was  almost  always  of  a  complimen- 
tary character  on  their  part  may  be  readily 
imagined ;  but  it  was  invariably  character- 
ized by  an  element  of  refined  restraint,  and, 
whether  from  some  implied  understanding 
or  individual  sense  of  honour,  it  never 


THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN.     79 

passed  the  bounds  of  conventionality  or  a 
certain  delicacy  of  respect.  The  delivery 
was  consequently  more  or  less  protracted, 
but  when  each  man  had  exchanged  his  three 
or  four  minutes'  conversation  with  the  fair 
postmistress,  —  a  conversation  at  times  im- 
peded by  bashf ulness  or  timidity,  on  his  part 
solely,  or  restricted  often  to  vague  smiling, 
—  he  resignedly  made  way  for  the  next.  It 
was  a  formal  levee,  mitigated  by  the  infor- 
mality of  rustic  tact,  great  good-humor, 
and  infinite  patience,  and  would  have  been 
amusing  'had  it  not  always  been  terribly  in 
earnest  and  at  times  touching.  For  it  was 
peculiar  to  the  place  and  the  epoch,  and  in- 
deed implied  the  whole  history  of  Mrs. 
Baker. 

She  was  the  wife  of  John  Baker,  foreman 
of  "  The  Last  Chance,"  now  for  a  year  ly- 
ing dead  under  half  a  mile  of  crushed  and 
beaten-in  tunnel  at  Burnt  Ridge.  There 
had  been  a  sudden  outcry  from  the  depths 
at  high  hot  noontide  one  day,  and  John  had 
rushed  from  his  cabin  —  his  young,  foolish, 
flirting  wife  clinging  to  him  —  to  answer 
that  despairing  cry  of  his  imprisoned  men. 
There  was  one  exit  that  he  alone  knew 
which  might  be  yet  held  open,  among  falling 


80     THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

walls  and  tottering  timbers,  long  enough  to 
set  them  free.  For  one  moment  only  the 
strong  man  hesitated  between  her  entreat- 
ing arms  and  his  brothers'  despairing  cry. 
But  she  rose  suddenly  with  a  pale  face,  and 
said,  "  Go,  John  ;  I  will  wait  for  you  here." 
He  went,  the  men  were  freed  —  but  she  had 
waited  for  him  ever  since ! 

Yet  in  the  shock  of  the  calamity  and  in 
the  after  struggles  of  that  poverty  which 
had  come  to  the  ruined  camp,  she  had 
scarcely  changed.  But  the  men  had.  Al- 
though she  was  to  all  appearances  the  same 
giddy,  pretty  Betsy  Baker,  who  had  been  so 
disturbing  to  the  younger  members,  they 
seemed  to  be  no  longer  disturbed  by  her. 
A  certain  subdued  awe  and  respect,  as  if  the 
martyred  spirit  of  John  Baker  still  held  his 
arm  around  her,  appeared  to  have  come 
upon  them  all.  They  held  their  breath  as 
this  pretty  woman,  whose  brief  mourning 
had  not  seemed  to  affect  her  cheerfulness  or 
even  playfulness  of  spirit,  passed  before 
them.  But  she  stood  by  her  cabin  and  the 
camp  —  the  only  woman  in  a  settlement  of 
forty  men  —  during  the  darkest  hours  of 
their  fortune.  Helping  them  to  wash  and 
cook,  and  ministering  to  their  domestic 


THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN.     81 

needs,  the  sanctity  of  her  cabin  was,  how- 
ever, always  kept  as  inviolable  as  if  it  had 
been  his  tomb.  No  one  exactly  knew  why, 
for  it  was  only  a  tacit  instinct ;  but  even  one 
or  two  who  had  not  scrupled  to  pay  court 
to  Betsy  Baker  during  John  Baker's  life, 
shrank  from  even  a  suggestion  of  familiarity 
towards  the  woman  who  had  said  that  she 
would  "  wait  for  him  there." 

When  brighter  days  came  and  the  settle- 
ment had  increased  by  one  or  two  families, 
and  laggard  capital  had  been  hurried  up  to 
relieve  the  still  beleaguered  and  locked-up 
wealth  of  Burnt  Kidge,  the  needs  of  the  com- 
munity and  the  claims  of  the  widow  of  John 
Baker  were  so  well  told  in  political  quarters 
that  the  post-office  of  Laurel  Run  was  created 
expressly  for  her.  Every  man  participated 
in  the  building  of  the  pretty  yet  substan- 
tial edifice  —  the  only  public  building  of  Lau- 
rel Run  —  that  stood  in  the  dust  of  the  great 
highway,  half  a  mile  from  the  settlement. 
There  she  was  installed  for  certain  hours  of 
the  day,  for  she  could  not  be  prevailed  upon 
to  abandon  John's  cabin,  and  here,  with  all 
the  added  respect  due  to  a  public  functionary, 
she  was  secure  in  her  privacy. 

But  the  blind  devotion  of  Laurel  Run  to 


82     THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

John  Baker's  relict  did  not  stop  here.  In 
its  zeal  to  assure  the  Government  authorities 
of  the  necessity  for  a  post-office,  and  to  secure 
a  permanent  competency  to  the  postmistress, 
there  was  much  embarrassing  extravagance. 
During  the  first  week  the  sale  of  stamps  at 
Laurel  Run  post-office  was  unprecedented  in 
the  annals  of  the  Department.  Fancy  prices 
were  given  for  the  first  issue  ;  then  they  were 
bought  wildly,  recklessly,  unprofitably,  and 
on  all  occasions.  Complimentary  congratu- 
lation at  the  little  window  invariably  ended 
with  "  and  a  dollar's  worth  of  stamps,  Mrs. 
Baker."  It  was  felt  to  be  supremely  delicate 
to  buy  only  the  highest  priced  stamps,  with- 
out reference  to  their  adequacy;  then  mere 
quantity  was  sought;  then  outgoing  letters 
were  all  over-paid  and  stamped  in  outrageous 
proportion  to  their  weight  and  even  size.  The 
imbecility  of  this,  and  its  probable  effect  on 
the  reputation  of  Laurel  Run  at  the  General 
Post-office,  being  pointed  out  by  Mrs.  Baker, 
stamps  were  adopted  as  local  currency,  and 
even  for  decorative  purposes  on  mirrors  and 
the  walls  of  cabins.  Everybody  wrote  let- 
ters, with  the  result,  however,  that  those  sent 
were  ludicrously  and  suspiciously  in  excess  of 
those  received.  To  obviate  this,  select  parties 


THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN.     83 

made  forced  journeys  to  Hickory  Hill,  the 
next  post-office,  with  letters  and  circulars  ad- 
dressed to  themselves  at  Laurel  Run.  How 
long  the  extravagance  would  have  continued 
is  not  known,  but  it  was  not  until  it  was  ru- 
mored that,  in  consequence  of  this  excessive 
flow  of  business,  the  Department  had  con- 
cluded that  a  postmaster  would  be  better 
fitted  for  the  place  that  it  abated,  and  a  com- 
promise was  effected  with  the  General  Office 
by  a  permanent  salary  to  the  postmistress. 

Such  was  the  history  of  Mrs.  Baker,  who 
had  just  finished  her  afternoon  levee,  nodded 
a  smiling  "good-by"  to  her  last  customer, 
and  closed  her  shutter  again.  Then  she  took 
up  her  own  letters,  but,  before  reading  them, 
glanced,  with  a  pretty  impatience,  at  the  two 
official  envelopes  addressed  to  herself,  which 
she  had  shelved.  They  were  generally  a  "  lot 
of  new  rules,"  or  notifications,  or  "  absurd  " 
questions  which  had  nothing  to  do  with  Lau- 
rel Run  and  only  bothered  her  and  "  made 
her  head  ache,"  and  she  had  usually  referred 
them  to  her  admiring  neighbor  at  Hickory 
Hill  for  explanation,  who  had  generally  re- 
turned them  to  her  with  the  brief  indorse- 
ment, uPurp  stuff,  don't  bother,"  or,  "Hog 
wash,  let  it  slide."  She  remembered  now  that 


84     THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

he  had  not  returned  the  last  two.  With 
knitted  brows  and  a  slight  pout  she  put  aside 
her  private  correspondence  and  tore  open  the 
first  one.  It  referred  with  official  curtness  to 
an  unanswered  communication  of  the  previ- 
ous week,  and  was  "  compelled  to  remind  her 
of  rule  47.  "  Again  those  horrid  rules !  She 
opened  the  other ;  the  frown  deepened  on  her 
brow,  and  became  fixed. 

It  was  a  summary  of  certain  valuable 
money  letters  that  had  miscarried  on  the 
route,  and  of  which  they  had  given  her  pre- 
vious information.  For  a  moment  her  cheeks 
blazed.  How  dare  they ;  what  did  they 
mean !  Her  waybills  and  register  were  al- 
ways right ;  she  knew  the  names  of  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  in  her  district ;  no 
such  names  as  those  borne  by  the  missing 
letters  had  ever  existed  at  Laurel  Run ;  no 
such  addresses  had  ever  been  sent  from  Lau- 
rel Run  post-office.  It  was  a  mean  insinua- 
tion !  She  would  send  in  her  resignation  at 
once !  She  would  get  "  the  boys  "  to  write 
an  insulting  letter  to  Senator  Slocumb, — 
Mrs.  Baker  had  the  feminine  idea  of  Gov- 
ernment as  a  purely  personal  institution,  — 
and  she  would  find  out  who  it  was  that  had 
put  them  up  to  this  prying,  crawling  impu- 


THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN.      85 

deuce !  It  was  probably  that  wall-eyed  old 
wife  of  the  postmaster  at  Heavy  Tree  Cross- 
ing, who  was  jealous  of  her.  "  Remind  her 
of  their  previous  unanswered  communica- 
tion," indeed  !  Where  was  that  communica- 
tion, anyway  ?  She  remembered  she  had  sent 
it  to  her  admirer  at  Hickory  Hill.  Odd  that 
he  had  n't  answered  it.  Of  course,  he  knew 
about  this  meanness  —  could  he,  too,  have 
dared  to  suspect  her !  The  thought  turned 
her  crimson  again.  He,  Stanton  Green,  was 
an  old  "Laurel  Runner,"  a  friend  of  John's, 
a  little  "  triflin'  "  and  "  presoomin',"  but  still 
an  old  loyal  pioneer  of  the  camp !  "  Why 
had  n't  he  spoke  up  ?  " 

There  was  the  soft,  muffled  fall  of  a  horse's 
hoof  in  the  thick  dust  of  the  highway,  the 
jingle  of  dismounting  spurs,  and  a  firm  tread 
on  the  platform.  No  doubt  one  of  the  boys 
returning  for  a  few  supplemental  remarks 
under  the  feeble  pretense  of  forgotten 
stamps.  It  had  been  done  before,  and  she 
had  resented  it  as  "  cayotin'  round ; "  but 
now  she  was  eager  to  pour  out  her  wrongs  to 
the  first  comer.  She  had  her  hand  impul- 
sively on  the  door  of  the  partition,  when  she 
stopped  with  a  new  sense  of  her  impaired 
dignity.  Could  she  confess  this  to  her  wor- 


86     THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

shipers  ?  But  here  the  door  opened  in  her 
very  face,  and  a  stranger  entered. 

He  was  a  man  of  fifty,  compactly  and 
strongly  built.  A  squarely -cut  goatee, 
slightly  streaked  with  gray,  fell  straight 
from  his  thin-lipped  but  handsome  mouth; 
his  eyes  were  dark,  humorous,  yet  searching. 
But  the  distinctive  quality  that  struck  Mrs. 
Baker  was  the  blending  of  urban  ease  with 
frontier  frankness.  He  was  evidently  a  man 
who  had  seen  cities  and  knew  countries  as 
well.  And  while  he  was  dressed  with  the 
comfortable  simplicity  of  a  Californian 
mounted  traveler,  her  inexperienced  but 
feminine  eye  detected  the  keynote  of  his  re- 
spectability in  the  carefully-tied  bow  of  his 
cravat.  The  Sierrean  throat  was  apt  to  be 
open,  free,  and  unfettered. 

"  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Baker,"  he  said, 
pleasantly,  with  his  hat  already  in  his  hand. 
"  I  'm  Harry  Home,  of  San  Francisco."  As 
he  spoke  his  eye  swept  approvingly  over  the 
neat  inclosure,  the  primly-tied  papers,  and 
well-kept  pigeon-holes  ;  the  pot  of  flowers  on 
her  desk ;  her  china-silk  mantle,  and  killing 
little  chip  hat  and  ribbons  hanging  against 
the  wall ;  thence  to  her  own  pink,  flushed 
face,  bright  blue  eyes,  tendriled  clinging 


THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN.      87 

hair,  and  then  —  fell  upon  the  leathern  mail- 
bag  still  lying  across  the  table.  Here  it 
became  fixed  on  the  unfortunate  wire  of 
the  amorous  expressman  that  yet  remained 
hanging  from  the  brass  wards  of  the  lock, 
and  he  reached  his  hand  toward  it. 

But  little  Mrs.  Baker  was  before  him,  and 
had  seized  it  in  her  arms.  She  had  been 
too  preoccupied  and  bewildered  to  resent  his 
first  intrusion  behind  the  partition,  but  this 
last  familiarity  with  her  sacred  official  prop- 
erty —  albeit  empty  —  capped  the  climax  of 
her  wrongs. 

"  How  dare  you  touch  it !  "  she  said  in- 
dignantly. "  How  dare  you  come  in  here  ! 
Who  are  you,  anyway?  Go  outside,  at 
once  ! " 

The  stranger  fell  back  with  an  amused, 
deprecatory  gesture,  and  a  long  silent  laugh. 
"  I  'm  afraid  you  don't  know  me,  after  all !  " 
he  said  pleasantly.  "  I  'm  Harry  Home,  the 
Department  Agent  from  the  San  Francisco 
office.  My  note  of  advice,  No.  201,  with  my 
name  on  the  envelope,  seems  to  have  mis- 
carried too." 

Even  in  her  fright  and  astonishment  it 
flashed  upon  Mrs.  Baker  that  she  had  sent  that 
notice,  too,  to  Hickory  Hill.  But  with  it  all 


88      THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

the  feminine  secretive  instinct  within  her  was 
now  thoroughly  aroused,  and  she  kept  silent. 

"  I  ought  to  have  explained,"  he  went  on 
smilingly  ;  "  but  you  are  quite  right,  Mrs. 
Baker,"  he  added,  nodding  towards  the  bag. 
"  As  far  as  you  knew,  I  had  no  business  to 
go  near  it.  Glad  to  see  you  know  how  to 
defend  Uncle  Sam's  property  so  well.  I  was 
only  a  bit  puzzled  to  know  "  (pointing  to  the 
wire)  "  if  that  thing  was  on  the  bag  when  it 
was  delivered  to  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Baker  saw  no  reason  to  conceal  the 
truth.  After  all,  this  official  was  a  man 
like  the  others,  and  it  was  just  as  well  that 
he  should  understand  her  power.  "  It 's 
only  the  expressman's  foolishness,"  she 
said,  with  a  slightly  coquettish  toss  of  her 
head.  "  He  thinks  it  smart  to  tie  some  non- 
sense on  that  bag  with  the  wire  when  he 
flings  it  down." 

Mr.  Home,  with  his  eyes  on  her  pretty 
face,  seemed  to  think  it  a  not  inhuman  or 
unpardonable  folly.  "  As  long  as  he  doesn't 
meddle  with  the  inside  of  the  bag,  I  suppose 
you  must  put  up  with  it,"  he  said  laugh- 
ingly. A  dreadful  recollection,  that  the 
Hickory  Hill  postmaster  had  used  the  inside 
of  the  bag  to  convey  Ms  foolishness,  came 


THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN.      89 

across  her.  It  would  never  do  to  confess  it 
now.  Her  face  must  have  shown  some  agi- 
tation, for  the  official  resumed  with  a  half- 
paternal,  half-reassuring  air  :  "  But  enough 
of  this.  Now,  Mrs.  Baker,  to  come  to  my 
business  here.  Briefly,  then,  it  does  n't  con- 
cern you  in  the  least,  except  so  far  as  it  may 
relieve  you  and  some  others,  whom  the  De- 
partment knows  equally  well,  from  a  certain 
responsibility,  and,  perhaps,  anxiety.  We 
are  pretty  well  posted  down  there  in  all  that 
concerns  Laurel  Run,  and  I  think  "  (with 
a  slight  bow)  "  we  've  known  all  about  you 
and  John  Baker.  My  only  business  here 
is  to  take  your  place  to-night  in  receiving 
the  "  Omnibus  Way  Bag,"  that  you  know 
arrives  here  at  9.30,  does  n't  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Baker  hurriedly; 
"  but  it  never  has  anything  for  us,  except " 
—  (she  caught  herself  up  quickly,  with  a 
stammer,  as  she  remembered  the  sighing 
Green's  occasional  offerings)  "  except  a  no- 
tification from  Hickory  Hill  post-office.  It 
leaves  there,"  she  went  on  with  an  affec- 
tation of  precision,  "at  half  past  eight  ex- 
actly, and  it 's  about  an  hour's  run  —  seven 
miles  by  road." 

"Exactly,"  said   Mr.  Home.     "Well,  7 


90     THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

will  receive  the  bag,  open  it,  and  dispatch 
it  again.  You  can,  if  you  choose,  take  a 
holiday." 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Baker,  as  she  remem- 
bered that  Laurel  Run  always  made  a  point 
of  attending  her  evening  levee  on  account 
of  the  superior  leisure  it  offered,  "  there  are 
the  people  who  come  for  letters,  you  know." 

"  I  thought  you  said  there  were  no  letters 
at  that  time,"  said  Mr.  Home  quickly. 

"  No  —  but  —  but "  —  (with  a  slight  hys- 
terical stammer)  "  the  boys  come  all  the 
same." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Mr.  Home  dryly. 

"  And  -—  O  Lord  !  "  —  "  But  here  the 
spectacle  of  the  possible  discomfiture  of 
Laurel  Run  at  meeting  the  bearded  face  of 
Mr.  Home,  instead  of  her  own  smooth 
cheeks,  at  the  window,  combined  with  her 
nervous  excitement,  overcame  her  so  that, 
throwing  her  little  frilled  apron  over  her 
head,  she  gave  way  to  a  paroxym  of  hys- 
terical laughter.  Mr.  Home  waited  with 
amused  toleration  for  it  to  stop,  and,  when 
she  had  recovered,  resumed.  "  Now,  I 
should  like  to  refer  an  instant  to  my  first 
communication  to  you.  Have  you  got  it 
handy?" 


THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN.     91 

Mrs.  Baker's  face  fell.  "  No ;  I  sent  it 
over  to  Mr.  Green,  of  Hickory  Hill,  for  in- 
formation." 

"  What !  " 

Terrified  at  the  sudden  seriousness  of  the 
man's  voice,  she  managed  to  gasp  out,  how- 
ever, that,  after  her  usual  habit,  she  had  not 
opened  the  official  letters,  but  had  sent  them 
to  her  more  experienced  colleague  for  advice 
and  information  ;  that  she  never  could  un- 
derstand them  herself,  — r  they  made  her  head 
ache,  and  interfered  with  her  other  duties,  — 
but  he  understood  them,  and  sent  her  word 
what  to  do.  Remembering  also  his  usual 
style  of  indorsement,  she  grew  red  again. 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing  ;  he  did  n't  return  them." 

"  Naturally,"  said  Mr.  Home,  with  a  pe- 
culiar expression.  After  a  few  moments' 
silent  stroking  of  his  beard,  he  suddenly 
faced  the  frightened  woman. 

"  You  oblige  me,  Mrs.  Baker,  to  speak 
more  frankly  to  you  than  I  had  intended. 
You  have  —  unwittingly,  I  believe  —  given 
information  to  a  man  whom  the  Government 
suspects  of  peculation.  You  have,  without 
knowing  it,  warned  the  postmaster  at  Hick- 
ory Hill  that  he  is  suspected ;  and,  as  you 


92     THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

might  have  frustrated  our  plans  for  tracing 
a  series  of  embezzlements  to  their  proper 
source,  you  will  see  that  you  might  have 
also  done  great  wrong  to  yourself  as  his  only 
neighbor  and  the  next  responsible  person. 
In  plain  words,  we  have  traced  the  disap- 
pearance of  money  letters  to  a  point  when 
it  lies  between  these  two  offices.  Now,  I 
have  not  the  least  hesitation  in  telling  you 
that  we  do  not  suspect  Laurel  Run,  and 
never  have  suspected  it.  Even  the  result 
of  your  thoughtless  act,  although  it  warned 
him,  confirms  our  suspicion  of  his  guilt. 
As  to  the  warning,  it  has  failed,  or  he  has 
grown  reckless,  for  another  letter  has  been 
missed  since.  To-night,  however,  will  settle 
all  doubt  in  the  matter.  When  I  open  that 
bag  in  this  office  to-night,  and  do  not  find 
a  certain  decoy  letter  in  it,  which  was  last 
checked  at  Heavy  Tree  Crossing,  I  shall 
know  that  it  remains  in  Green's  possession 
at  Hickory  Hill." 

•  She  was  sitting  back  in  her  chair,  white 
and  breathless.  He  glanced  at  her  kindly, 
and  then  took  up  his  hat.  "  Come,  Mrs. 
Baker,  don't  let  this  worry  you.  As  I  told 
you  at  first,  you  have  nothing  to  fear.  Even 
your  thoughtlessness  and  ignorance  of  rules 


THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN.     93 

have  contributed  to  show  your  own  innocence. 
Nobody  will  ever  be  the  wiser  for  this ;  we 
do  not  advertise  our  affairs  in  the  Depart- 
ment. Not  a  soul  but  yourself  knows  the 
real  cause  of  my  visit  here.  I  will  leave  you 
here  alone  for  a  while,  so  as  to  divert  any 
suspicion.  You  will  come,  as  usual,  this 
evening,  and  be  seen  by  your  friends ;  I  will 
only  be  here  when  the  bag  arrives,  to  open 
it.  Good-by,  Mrs.  Baker  ;  it 's  a  nasty  bit 
of  business,  but  it 's  all  in  the  day's  work. 
I  've  seen  worse,  and,  thank  God,  you  're  out* 
of  it." 

She  heard  his  footsteps  retreat  into  the 
outer  office  and  die  out  of  the  platform  ;  the 
jingle  of  his  spurs,  and  the  hollow  beat  of  his 
horse's  hoofs  that  seemed  to  find  a  dull  echo 
in  her  own  heart,  and  she  was  alone. 

The  room  was  very  hot  and  very  quiet ; 
she  could  hear  the  warping  and  creaking  of 
the  shingles  under  the  relaxing  of  the  nearly 
level  sunbeams.  The  office  clock  struck 
seven.  In  the  breathless  silence  that  fol- 
lowed, a  woodpecker  took  up  his  interrupted 
work  on  the  roof,  and  seemed  to  beat  out 
monotonously  on  her  ear  the  last  words  of  the 
stranger :  Stanton  Green  — r  a  thief  !  Stan- 
ton  Green,  one  of  the  "  boys  "  John  had 


94     THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

helped  out  of  the  falling  tunnel !  Stanton 
Green,  whose  old  mother  in  the  States  still 
wrote  letters  to  him  at  Laurel  Run,  in  a  few 
hours  to  be  a  disgraced  and  ruined  man  for- 
ever !  She  remembered  now,  as  a  thought- 
less woman  remembers,  tales  of  his  extrava- 
gance and  fast  living,  of  which  she  had  taken 
no  heed,  and,  with  a  sense  of  shame,  of  pres- 
ents sent  her,  that  she  now  clearly  saw  must 
have  been  far  beyond  his  means.  What 
would  the  boys  say  ?  What  would  John  have 
•said  ?  Ah  !  what  would  John  have  done  ! 

She  started  suddenly  to  her  feet,  white  and 
cold  as  on  that  day  that  she  had  parted  from 
John  Baker  before  the  tunnel.  She  put  on 
her  hat  and  mantle,  and  going  to  that  little 
iron  safe  that  stood  in  the  corner,  unlocked 
it  and  took  out  its  entire  contents  of  gold 
and  silver.  She  had  reached  the  door  when 
another  idea  seized  her,  and  opening  her  desk 
she  collected  her  stamps  to  the  last  sheet, 
and  hurriedly  rolled  them  up  under  her  cape. 
Then  with  a  glance  at  the  clock,  and  a  rapid 
survey  of  the  road  from  the  platform,  she 
slipped  from  it,  and  seemed  to  be  swallowed 
up  in  the  waiting  woods  beyond. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ONCE  within  the  friendly  shadows  of  the 
long  belt  of  pines,  Mrs.  Baker  kept  them  un- 
til she  had  left  the  limited  settlement  of  Lau- 
rel Run  far  to  the  right,  and  came  upon  an 
open  slope  of  Burnt  Ridge,  where  she  knew 
Jo  Simmons'  mustang,  Blue  Lightning,  would 
be  quietly  feeding.  She  had  often  ridden 
him  before,  and  when  she  had  detached  the 
fifty-foot  reata  from  his  head-stall,  he  per- 
mitted her  the  further  recognized  familiarity 
of  twining  her  fingers  in  his  bluish  mane 
and  climbing  on  his  back.  The  tool-shed  of 
Burnt  Ridge  Tunnel,  where  Jo's  saddle  and 
bridle  always  hung,  was  but  a  canter  far- 
ther on.  She  reached  it  unperceived,  and  — 
another  trick  of  the  old  days  —  quickly  ex- 
temporized a  side-saddle  from  Simmons' 
Mexican  tree,  with  its  high  cantle  and  horn 
bow,  and  the  aid  of  a  blanket.  Then  leap- 
ing to  her  seat,%  she  rapidly  threw  off  her 
mantle,  tied  it  by  its  sleeves  around  her 
waist,  tucked  it  under  one  knee,  and  let  it 


96      THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

fall  over  her  horse's  flanks.  By  this  time 
Blue  Lightning  was  also  struck  with  a  flash 
of  equine  recollection  and  pricked  up  his 
ears.  Mrs.  Baker  uttered  a  little  chirping 
cry  which  he  remembered,  and  the  next 
moment  they  were  both  careering  over  the 
Kidge. 

The  trail  that  she  had  taken,  though  pre- 
cipitate, difficult,  and  dangerous  in  places, 
was  a  clear  gain  of  two  miles  on  the  stage 
road.  There  was  less  chance  of  her  being 
followed  or  meeting  any  one.  The  greater 
canons  were  already  in  shadow;  the  pines 
on  the  farther  ridges  were  separating  their 
masses,  and  showing  individual  silhouettes 
against  the  sky,  but  the  air  was  still  warm, 
and  the  cool  breath  of  night,  as  she  well  knew 
it,  had  not  yet  begun  to  flow  down  the  moun- 
tain. The  lower  range  of  Burnt  Ridge  was 
still  uneclipsed  by  the  creeping  shadow  of  the 
mountain  ahead  of  her.  Without  a  watch, 
but  with  this  familiar  and  slowly  changing 
dial  spread  out  before  her,  she  knew  the 
time  to  a  minute.  Heavy  Tree  Hill,  a 
lesser  height  in  the  distance,  was  already 
wiped  out  by  that  shadowy  index  finger  — 
half  past  seven  !  The  stage  would  be  at 
Hickory  Hill  just  before  half  past  eight ;  she 


THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN.     97 

ought  to  anticipate  it,  if  possible,  —  it  would 
stay  ten  minutes  to  change  horses,  —  she 
must  arrive  before  it  left ! 

There  was  a  good  two-mile  level  before 
the  rise  of  the  next  range.  Now,  Blue 
Lightning !  all  you  know !  And  that  was 
much,  —  for  with  the  little  chip  hat  and  flut- 
tering ribbons  well  bent  down  over  the  blu- 
ish mane,  and  the  streaming  gauze  of  her 
mantle  almost  level  with  the  horse's  back, 
she  swept  down  across  the  long  tableland 
like  a  skimming  blue -jay.  A  few  more 
bird-like  dips  up  and  down  the  undulations, 
and  then  came  the  long,  cruel  ascent  of  the 
Divide. 

Acrid  with  perspiration,  caking  with 
dust,  slithering  in  the  slippery,  impalpable 
powder  of  the  road,  groggily  staggering  in 
a  red  dusty  dream,  coughing,  snorting,  head- 
tossing  ;  becoming  suddenly  dejected,  with 
slouching  haunch  and  limp  legs  on  easy 
slopes,  or  wildly  spasmodic  and  agile  on 
sharp  acclivities,  Blue  Lightning  began  to 
have  ideas  and  recollections !  Ah  !  she  was 
a  devil  for  a  lark  —  this  lightly-clinging, 
caressing,  blarneying,  cooing  creature  —  up 
there!  He  remembered  her  now.  Ha! 
very  well  then.  Hoop-la !  And  suddenly 


98     THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

leaping  out  like  a  rabbit,  bucking,  trotting 
hard,  ambling  lightly,  "loping"  on  three 
legs  and  recreating  himself,  —  as  only  a  Cali- 
fornia mustang  could,  —  the  invincible  Blue 
Lightning  at  last  stood  triumphantly  upon 
the  summit.  The  evening  star  had  just 
pricked  itself  through  the  golden  mist  of  the 
horizon  line,  —  eight  o'clock  !  She  could  do 
it  now !  But  here,  suddenly,  her  first  hesi- 
tation seized  her.  She  knew  her  horse,  she 
knew  the  trail,  she  knew  herself,  —  but  did 
she  know  the  man  to  whom  she  was  riding  ? 
A  cold  chill  crept  over  her,  and  then  she 
shivered  in  a  sudden  blast ;  it  was  Night  at 
last  swooping  down  from  the  now  invisible 
Sierras,  and  possessing  all  it  touched.  But 
it  was  only  one  long  descent  to  Hickory  Hill 
now,  and  she  swept  down  securely  on  its 
wings.  Half -past  eight !  The  lights  of  the 
settlement  were  just  ahead  of  her  —  but  so, 
too,  were  the  two  lamps  of  the  waiting  stage 
before  the  post-office  and  hotel. 

Happily  the  lounging  crowd  were  gath- 
ered around  the  hotel,  and  she  slipped  into 
the  post-office  from  the  rear,  unperceived. 
As  she  stepped  behind  the  partition,  its  only 
occupant  —  a  good-looking  young  fellow  with 
a  reddish  mustache  —  turned  towards  her 


THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN.     99 

with  a  flush  of  delighted  surprise.  But  it 
changed  at  the  sight  of  the  white,  determined 
face  and  the  brilliant  eyes  that  had  never 
looked  once  towards  him,  but  were  fixed 
upon  ad  large  bag,  whose  yawning  mouth  was 
still  open  and  propped  up  beside  his  desk. 

"  Where  is  the  through  money  letter  that 
came  in  that  bag? "  she  said  quickly. 

"  What  —  do  —  you  —  mean  ?  "  he  stam- 
mered, with  a  face  that  had  suddenly  grown 
whiter  than  her  own. 

"  I  mean  that  it 's  a  decoy,  checked  at 
Heavy  Tree  Crossing,  and  that  Mr.  Home,  of 
San  Francisco,  is  now  waiting  at  my  office 
to  know  if  you  have  taken  it  !  " 

The  laugh  and  lie  that  he  had  at  first 
tried  to  summon  to  mouth  anc^  lips  never 
reached  them.  For,  under  the  spell  of  her 
rigid,  truthful  face,  he  turned  almost  mechan- 
ically to  his  desk,  and  took  out  a  package. 

"  Good  God  !  you  've  opened  it  already !  " 
she  cried,  pointing  to  the  broken  seal. 

The  expression  on  her  face,  more  than 
anything  she  had  said,  convinced  him  that 
she  knew  all.  He  stammered  under  the  new 
alarm  that  her  despairing  tone  suggested. 
"  Yes  !  —  I  was  owing  some  bills  —  the  col- 
lector was  waiting  here  for  the  money,  and 


100    THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

I  took  something  from  the  packet.  But  I 
was  going  to  make  it  up  by  next  mail  —  I 
swear  it." 

"  How  much  have  you  taken  ?  " 

"  Only  a  trifle.     I "  — 

"  How  much  ?  " 

"  A  hundred  dollars  !  " 

She  dragged  the  money  she  had  brought 
from  Laurel  Run  from  her  pocket,  and 
counting  out  the  sum,  replaced  it  in  the  open 
package.  He  ran  quickly  to  get  the  sealing- 
wax,  but  she  motioned  him  away  as  she 
dropped  the  package  back  into  the  mail-bag. 
"  No ;  as  long  as  the  money  is  found  in  the 
bag  the  package  may  have  been  broken  acci- 
dentally. Now  burst  open  one  or  two  of  those 
other  packages  a  little  —  so  ;"  she  took  out 
a  packet  of  letters  and  bruised  their  official 
wrappings  under  her  little  foot  until  the 
tape  fastening  was  loosened.  "  Now  give  me 
something  heavy."  She  caught  up  a  brass 
two-pound  weight,  and  in  the  same  feverish 
but  collected  haste  wrapped  it  in  paper, 
sealed  it,  stamped  it,  and,  addressing  it  in  a 
large  printed  hand  to  herself  at  Laurel  Hill, 
dropped  it  in  the  bag.  Then  she  closed  it 
and  locked  it ;  he  would  have  assisted  her, 
but  she  again  waved  him  away.  "  Send  for 


THE  POST. \ftSTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN.  101 

the  expressman,  and  keep  yourself  out  of 
the  way  for  a  moment,"  she  said  curtly. 

An  attitude  of  weak  admiration  and  fool- 
ish passion  had  taken  the  place  of  his  former 
tremulous  fear.  He  obeyed  excitedly,  but 
without  a  word.  Mrs.  Baker  wiped  her 
moist  forehead  and  parched  lips,  and  shook 
out  her  skirt.  Well  might  the  young  ex- 
pressman start  at  the  unexpected  revelation 
of  those  sparkling  eyes  and  that  demurely 
smiling  mouth  at  the  little  window. 

"Mrs.  Baker!" 

She  put  her  finger  quickly  to  her  lips,  and 
threw  a  world  of  unutterable  and  enigmatical 
meaning  into  her  mischievous  face. 

"  There 's  a  big  San  Francisco  swell  takin' 
my  place  at  Laurel  to-night,  Charley." 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  And  it 's  a  pity  that  the  Omnibus  Way 
Bag  happened  to  get  such  a  shaking  up  and 
banging  round  already,  coming  here." 

"Eh?" 

"  I  say,"  continued  Mrs.  Baker,  with  great 
gravity  and  dancing  eyes,  "  that  it  would  be 
just  awful  if  that  keerful  city  clerk  found 
things  kinder  mixed  up  inside  when  he  comes 
to  open  it.  I  would  n't  give  him  trouble  for 
the  world,  Charley." 


102    THE  POSTMISTRESS  OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

"  No,  ma'am,  it  ain't  like  you." 

"  So  you  '11  be  particularly  careful  on  my 
account." 

"  Mrs.  Baker,"  said  Charley,  with  infinite 
gravity,  "  if  that  bag  should  tumble  off  a 
dozen  times  between  this  and  Laurel  Hill, 
I  '11  hop  down  and  pick  it  up  myself." 

"  Thank  you  !  shake  !  " 

They  shook  hands  gravely  across  the  win- 
dow-ledge. 

"  And  you  ain't  going  down  with  us,  Mrs. 
Baker?" 

"  Of  course  not ;  it  would  n't  do,  —  for  / 
ain't  here,  —  don't  you  see  ?  " 

"Of  course  ! " 

She  handed  him  the  bag  through  the  door. 
He  took  it  carefully,  but  in  spite  of  his  great 
precaution  fell  over  it  twice  on  his  way  to 
the  road,  where  from  certain  exclamations 
and  shouts  it  seemed  that  a  like  miserable 
mischance  attended  its  elevation  to  the  boot. 
Then  Mrs.  Baker  came  back  into  the  office, 
and,  as  the  wheels  rolled  away,  threw  herself 
into  a  chair,  and  inconsistently  gave  way  for 
the  first  time  to  an  outburst  of  tears.  Then 
her  hand  was  grasped  suddenly  and  she 
found  Green  on  his  knees  before  her.  She 
started  to  her  feet. 


THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN.  103 

"  Don't  move,"  he  said,  with  weak  hysteric 
passion,  "  but  listen  to  me,  for  God's  sake  ! 
I  am  ruined,  I  know,  even  though  you  have 
just  saved  me  from  detection  and  disgrace. 
I  have  been  mad  !  —  a  fool,  to  do  what  I  have 
done,  I  know,  but  you  do  not  know  all  — 
you  do  not  know  why  I  did  it  —  you  cannot 
think  of  the  temptation  that  has  driven  me 
to  it.  Listen,  Mrs.  Baker.  I  have  been 
striving  to  get  money,  honestly,  dishonestly 
—  any  way,  to  look  well  in  your  eyes  —  to 
make  myself  worthy  of  you  —  to  make  my- 
self rich,  and  to  be  able  to  offer  you  a  home 
and  take  you  away  from  Laurel  Run.  It 
was  all  for  you,  it  was  all  for  love  of  you, 
Betsy,  my  darling.  Listen  to  me  ! " 

In  the  fury,  outraged  sensibility,  indigna- 
tion, and  infinite  disgust  that  filled  her  little 
body  at  that  moment,  she  should  have  been 
large,  imperious,  goddess-like,  and  command- 
ing. But  God  is  at  times  ironical  with  suf- 
fering womanhood.  She  could  only  writhe 
her  hand  from  his  grasp  with  childish  con- 
tortions ;  she  could  only  glare  at  him  with 
eyes  that  were  prettily  and  piquantly  bril- 
liant ;  she  could  only  slap  at  his  detaining 
hand  with  a  plump  and  velvety  palm,  and 
when  she  found  her  voice  it  was  high  fal- 


104    THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

setto.  And  all  she  could  say  was,  "  Leave 
me  be,  looney,  or  I  '11  scream  !  " 

He  rose,  with  a  weak,  confused  laugh,  half 
of  miserable  affectation  and  half  of  real 
anger  and  shame. 

"  What  did  you  come  riding  over  here  for, 
then  ?  What  did  you  take  all  this  risk  for  ? 
Why  did  you  rush  over  here  to  share  my  dis- 
grace —  for  you  are  as  much  mixed  up  with 
this  now  as  I  am  —  if  you  did  n't  calculate 
to  share  everything  else  with  me  ?  What 
did  you  come  here  for,  then,  if  not  for  me?  " 

"What  did  /come  here  for?  "  said  Mrs. 
Baker,  with  every  drop  of  red  blood  gone 
from  her  cheek  and  trembling  lip.  "  What 
—  did  —  I  —  come  here  for  ?  Well !  —  I 
came  here  for  John  Baker's  sake  !  John 
Baker,  who  stood  between  you  and  death  at 
Burnt  Ridge,  as  I  stand  between  you  and 
damnation  at  Laurel  Run,  Mr.  Green  !  Yes, 
John  Baker,  lying  under  half  of  Burnt 
Ridge,  but  more  to  me  this  day  than  any  liv- 
ing man  crawling  over  it  —  in  —  in  "  —  oh, 
fatal  climax !  —  "in  a  month  o'  Sundays  ! 
What  did  I  come  here  for  ?  I  came  here  as 
John  Baker's  livin'  wife  to  carry  on  dead 
John  Baker's  work.  Yes,  dirty  work  this 
time,  may  be,  Mr.  Green  !  but  his  work  and 


THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL   RUN.  105 

for  him  only  —  precious  !  That 's  what  I 
carne  here  for  ;  that 's  what  I  live  for  ;  that 's 
what  I  'in  waiting  for  —  to  be  up  to  him 
and  his  work  always !  That  's  me  —  Betsy 
Baker!" 

She  walked  up  and  down  rapidly,  tying 
her  chip  hat  under  her  chin  again.  Then 
she  stopped,  and  taking  her  chamois  purse 
from  her  pocket,  laid  it  sharply  on  the  desk. 

"  Stanton  Green,  don't  be  a  fool !  Rise 
up  out  of  this,  and  be  a  man  again.  Take 
enough  out  o'  that  bag  to  pay  what  you  owe 
Gov'ment,  send  in  your  resignation,  and  keep 
the  rest  to  start  you  in  an  honest  life  else- 
where. But  light  out  o'  Hickory  Hill  afore 
this  time  to-morrow." 

She  pulled  her  mantle  from  the  wall  and 
opened  the  door. 

"  You  are  going  ?  "  he  said  bitterly. 

"  Yes."  Either  she  could  not  hold  seri- 
ousness long  in  her  capricious  little  fancy,  or, 
with  feminine  tact,  she  sought  to  make  the 
parting  less  difficult  for  him,  for  she  broke 
into  a  dazzling  smile.  "  Yes,  I  'm  goin'  to 
run  Blue  Lightning  agin  Charley  and  that 
way  bag  back  to  Laurel  Run,  and  break  the 
record." 


106    THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN. 

It  is  said  that  she  did  !  Perhaps  owing  to 
the  fact  that  the  grade  of  the  return  journey 
to  Laurel  Run  was  in  her  favor,  and  that 
she  could  avoid  the  long,  circuitous  ascent  to 
the  summit  taken  by  the  stage,  or  that,  ow- 
ing to  the  extraordinary  difficulties  in  the 
carriage  of  the  way  bag,  —  which  had  to  be 
twice  rescued  from  under  the  wheels  of  the 
stage,  —  she  entered  the  Laurel  Run  post- 
office  as  the  coach  leaders  came  trotting  up 
the  hill.  Mr.  Home  was  already  on  the 
platform. 

"  You  '11  have  to  ballast  your  next  way 
bag,  boss,"  said  Charley,  gravely,  as  it  es- 
caped his  clutches  once  more  in  the  dust  of 
the  road,  "or  you'll  have  to  make  a  new 
contract  with  the  company.  "We  've  lost 
ten  minutes  in  five  miles  over  that  bucking 
thing." 

Home  did  not  reply,  but  quickly  dragged 
his  prize  into  the  office,  scarcely  noticing 
Mrs.  Baker,  who  stood  beside  him  pale  and 
breathless.  As  the  bolt  of  the  bag  was 
drawn,  revealing  its  chaotic  interior,  Mrs. 
Baker  gave  a  little  sigh.  Home  glanced 
quickly  at  her,  emptied  the  bag  upon  the 
floor,  and  picked  up  the  broken  and  half- 
filled  money  parcel.  Then  he  collected  the 


THE  POSTMISTRESS   OF  LAUREL  RUN.   107 

scattered  coins  and  counted  them.  "  It 's 
all  right,  Mrs.  Baker,"  he  said  gravely. 
"J7e'ssafe  this  time." 

"  I  'm  so  glad !  "  said  little  Mrs.  Baker, 
with  a  hypocritical  gasp. 

"  So  am  I,"  returned  Home,  with  increas- 
ing gravity,  as  he  took  the  coin,  "  for,  from 
all  I  have  gathered  this  afternoon,  it  seems 
he  was  an  old  pioneer  of  Laurel  Run,  a  friend 
of  your  husband's,  and,  I  think,  more  fool 
than  knave  !  "  He  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
clicking  the  coins  against  each  other ;  then 
he  said  carelessly  :  "  Did  he  get  quite  away, 
Mrs.  Baker?" 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  you  're  talk- 
ing about,"  said  Mrs.  Baker,  with  a  lofty  air 
of  dignity,  but  a  somewhat  debasing  color. 
"  I  don't  see  why  /  should  know  anything 
about  it,  or  why  he  should  go  away  at  all." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Home,  laying  his  hand 
gently  on  the  widow's  shoulder,  "  well,  you 
see,  it  might  have  occurred  to  his  friends 
that  the  coins  were  marked!  That  is,  no 
doubt,  the  reason  why  he  would  take  their 
good  advice  and  go.  But,  as  I  said  before, 
Mrs.  Baker,  you  're  all  right,  whatever  hap- 
pens, —  the  Government  stands  by  you  !  " 


A  NIGHT  AT  «  HAYS." 


CHAPTER  I. 

IT  was  difficult  to  say  if  Hays'  farmhouse, 
or  "Hays,"  as  it  was  familiarly  called, 
looked  any  more  bleak  and  cheerless  that 
winter  afternoon  than  it  usually  did  in  the 
strong  summer  sunshine.  Painted  a  cold 
merciless  white,  with  scant  projections  for 
shadows,  a  roof  of  white-pine  shingles, 
bleached  lighter  through  sun  and  wind,  and 
covered  with  low,  white-capped  chimneys,  it 
looked  even  more  stark  and  chilly  than  the 
drifts  which  had  climbed  its  low  roadside 
fence,  and  yet  seemed  hopeless  of  gaining  a 
foothold  on  the  glancing  walls,  or  slippery, 
wind-swept  roof.  The  storm,  which  had 
already  heaped  the  hollows  of  the  road  with 
snow,  hurled  its  finely-granulated  flakes 
against  the  building,  but  they  were  whirled 
along  the  gutters  and  ridges,  and  disappeared 
in  smokelike  puffs  across  the  icy  roof.  The 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  109 

granite  outcrop  in  the  hilly  field  beyond  had 
long  ago  whitened  and  vanished  ;  the  dwarf 
firs  and  larches  which  had  at  first  taken  un- 
couth shapes  in  the  drift  blended  vaguely 
together,  and  then  merged  into  an  unbroken 
formless  wave.  But  the  gaunt  angles  and 
rigid  outlines  of  the  building  remained  sharp 
and  unchanged.  It  would  seem  as  if  the 
rigors  of  winter  had  only  accented  their 
hardness,  as  the  fierceness  of  summer  had 
previously  made  them  intolerable. 

It  was  believed  that  some  of  this  unyield- 
ing grimness  attached  to  Hays  himself.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  neither  hardship  nor  prosperity 
had  touched  his  character.  Years  ago  his 
emigrant  team  had  broken  down  in  this  wild 
but  wooded  defile  of  the  Sierras,  and  he  had 
been  forced  to  a  winter  encampment,  with  only 
a  rude  log-cabin  for  shelter,  on  the  very  verge 
of  the  promised  land.  Unable  to  enter  it 
himself,  he  was  nevertheless  able  to  assist  the 
better-equipped  teams  that  followed  him  with 
wood  and  water  and  a  coarse  forage  gathered 
from  a  sheltered  slope  of  wild  oats.  This 
was  the  beginning  of  a  rude  "  supply  station  " 
which  afterwards  became  so  profitable  that 
when  spring  came  and  Hays'  team  were  suf- 
ficiently recruited  to  follow  the  flood  of  im- 


110  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS" 

migrating  gold-seekers  to  the  placers  and 
valleys,  there  seemed  no  occasion  for  it.  His 
^  fortune  had  been  already  found  in  the  belt  of 
arable  slope  behind  the  wooded  defile,  arid  in 
the  miraculously  located  coign  of  vantage  on 
what  was  now  the  great  highway  of  travel 
and  the  only  oasis  and  first  relief  of  the  weary 
journey ;  the  breaking  down  of  his  own  team 
at  that  spot  had  not  only  been  the  salvation 
of  those  who  found  at  "  Hays  "  the  means  of 
prosecuting  the  last  part  of  their  pilgrimage, 
but  later  provided  the  equipment  of  return- 
ing teams. 

The  first  two  years  of  this  experience  had 
not  been  without  hardship  and  danger.  He 
had  been  raided  by  Indians  and  besieged  for 
three  days  in  his  stockaded  cabin ;  he  had 
been  invested  by  wintry  drifts  of  twenty  feet 
of  snow,  cut  off  equally  from  incoming  teams 
from  the  pass  and  the  valley  below.  During 
the  second  year  his  wife  had  joined  him  with 
four  children,  but  whether  the  enforced  sep- 
aration had  dulled  her  conjugal  affection,  or 
whether  she  was  tempted  by  a  natural  femi- 
nine longing  for  the  land  of  promise  beyond, 
she  sought  it  one  morning  with  a  fascinating 
teamster,  leaving  her  two  sons  and  two 
daughters  behind  her;  two  years  later  the 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  Ill 

elder  of  the  daughters  followed  the  mother's 
example,  with  such  maidenly  discretion,  how- 
ever, as  to  forbear  compromising  herself  by 
any  previous  matrimonial  formality  whatever. 
From  that  day  Hays  had  no  further  personal 
intercourse  with  the  valley  below.  He  put 
up  a  hotel  a  mile  away  from  the  farmhouse 
that  he  might  not  have  to  dispense  hospitality 
to  his  customers,  nor  accept  their  near  com- 
panionship. Always  a  severe  Presbyterian, 
and  an  uncompromising  deacon  of  a  far-scat- 
tered and  scanty  community  who  occasionally 
held  their  service  in  one  of  his  barns,  he 
grew  more  rigid,  sectarian,  and  narrow  day 
by  day.  He  was  feared,  and  although  nei- 
ther respected  nor  loved,  his  domination  and 
endurance  were  accepted.  A  grim  landlord, 
hard  creditor,  close-fisted  patron,  and  a  smile- 
less  neighbor  who  neither  gambled  nor  drank, 
"Old  Hays,"  as  he  was  called,  while  yet 
scarce  fifty,  had  few  acquaintances  and  fewer 
friends.  There  were  those  who  believed  that 
his  domestic  infelicities  were  the  result  of 
his  unsympathetic  nature  ;  it  never  occurred 
to  any  one  (but  himself  probably)  that  they 
might  have  been  the  cause.  In  those  Sierran 
altitudes,  as  elsewhere,  the  belief  in  original 
sin  —  popularly  known  as  "  pure  cussedness  " 


112  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

—  dominated  and  overbore  any  considera- 
tion of  passive,  impelling  circumstances  or 
temptation,  unless  they  had  been  actively 
demonstrated  with  a  revolver.  The  passive 
expression  of  harshness,  suspicion,  distrust, 
and  moroseness  was  looked  upon  as  inher- 
ent wickedness. 

The  storm  raged  violently  as  Hays 
emerged  from  the  last  of  a  long  range  of 
outbuildings  and  sheds,  and  crossed  the 
open  space  between  him  and  the  farmhouse. 
Before  he  had  reached  the  porch,  with  its 
scant  shelter,  he  had  floundered  through  a 
snowdrift,  and  faced  the  full  fury  of  the 
storm.  But  the  snow  seemed  to  have 
glanced  from  his  hard  angular  figure  as  it 
had  from  his  roof-ridge,  for  when  he  entered 
the  narrow  hall- way  his  pilot  jacket  was  un- 
marked, except  where  a  narrow  line  of  pow- 
dered flakes  outlined  the  seams  as  if  worn. 
To  the  right  was  an  apartment,  half  office, 
half  sitting-room,  furnished  with  a  dark  and 
chilly  iron  safe,  a  sofa  and  chairs  covered 
with  black  and  coldly  shining  horsehair. 
Here  Hays  not  only  removed  his  upper  coat 
but  his  under  one  also,  and  drawing  a  chair 
before  the  fire  sat  down  in  his  shirt-sleeves. 
It  was  his  usual  rustic  pioneer  habit,  and 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  113 

might  have  been  some  lingering  reminis- 
cence of  certain  remote  ancestors  to  whom 
clothes  were  an  impediment.  He  was  warm- 
ing his  hands  and  placidly  ignoring  his 
gaunt  arms  in  their  thinly-clad  "hickory" 
sleeves,  when  a  young  girl  of  eighteen  saun- 
tered, half  perfunctorily,  half  inquisitively 
into  the  room.  It  was  his  only  remaining 
daughter.  Already  elected  by  circumstances 
to  a  dry  household  virginity,  her  somewhat 
large  features,  sallow  complexion,  and  taste- 
less, unattractive  dress,  did  not  obviously 
suggest  a  sacrifice.  Since  her  sister's  de- 
parture she  had  taken  sole  charge  of  her 
father's  domestic  affairs  and  the  few  rude 
servants  he  employed,  with  a  certain  in- 
herited following  of  his  own  moods  and 
methods.  To  the  neighbors  she  was  known 
as  "  Miss  Hays,"  —  a  dubious  respect  that, 
in  a  community  of  familiar  "  Sallies," 
"Mamies,"  "Pussies,"  was  grimly  prophetic. 
Yet  she  rejoiced  in  the  Oriental  appellation 
of  "  Zuleika."  To  this  it  is  needless  to  add 
that  it  was  impossible  to  conceive  any  one 
who  looked  more  decidedly  Western. 

"  Ye  kin  put  some  things  in  my  carpet  bag 
agin  the  time  the  sled  comes  round,"  said 
her  father  meditatively,  without  looking  up. 


114  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

"  Then  you  're  not  coming  back  to- 
night ?  "  asked  the  girl  curiously.  "  What 's 
goin'  on  at  the  summit,  father  ?  " 

"  /  am,"  he  said  grimly.  "  You  don't 
reckon  I  kalkilate  to  stop  thar  !  I  'm  going 
on  as  far  as  Horseley's  to  close  up  that  con- 
tract afore  the  weather  changes." 

"I  kinder  allowed  it  was  funny  you  'd 
go  to  the  hotel  to-night.  There  's  a  dance 
there ;  those  two  Wetherbee  girls  and 
Mamie  Harris  passed  up  the  road  an  hour 
ago  on  a  wood-sled,  nigh  blown  to  pieces 
and  sittin'  up  in  the  snow  like  skeert  white 
rabbits." 

Hays'  brow  darkened  heavily. 
"Let  'em  go,"  he  said,  in  a  hard  voice 
that  the  fire  did  not  seem  to  have  softened. 
"  Let  'em  go  for  all  the  good  their  fool- 
parents  will  ever  get  outer  them,  or  the  herd 
of  wayside  cattle  they  've  let  them  loose 
among." 

"  I  reckon  they  have  n't  much  to  do  at 
home,  or  are  hard  put  for  company,  to  travel 
six  miles  in  the  snow  to  show  off  their  prin- 
kin'  to  a  lot  of  idle  louts  shiny  with  bear's 
grease  and  scented  up  with  doctor's  stuff," 
added  the  girl,  shrugging  her  shoulders, 
with  a  touch  of  her  father's  mood  and  man- 
ner. 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS.'1  115 

Perhaps  it  struck  Hays  at  that  moment 
that  her  attitude  was  somewhat  monstrous 
and  unnatural  for  one  still  young  and  pre- 
sumably like  other  girls,  for,  after  glancing 
at  her  under  his  heavy  brows,  he  said,  in  a 
gentler  tone :  — 

"  Never  you  mind,  Zuly.  When  your 
brother  Jack  comes  home  he  '11  know  what 's 
what,  and  have  all  the  proper  New  York 
ways  and  style.  It's  nigh  on  three  years 
now  that  he  's  had  the  best  training  Dr. 
Dawson's  Academy  could  give, —  sayin'  no- 
thing of  the  pow'f  ul  Christian  example  of  one 
of  the  best  preachers  in  the  States.  They 
may  n't  have  worldly,  ungodly  fandangoes 
where  he  is,  and  riotous  livin',  and  scarlet 
abominations,  but  I've  been  told  that  they  've 
'  tea  circles,'  and  '  assemblies,'  and  4  harmony 
concerts '  of  young  folks  —  and  dancin'  — 
yes,  fine  square  dancin'  under  control.  No, 
I  ain't  stinted  him  in  anythin'.  You  kin 
remember  that,  Zuleika,  when  you  hear  any 
more  gossip  and  backbitin'  about  your  fa- 
ther's meanness.  I  ain't  spared  no  money 
for  him." 

"  I  reckon  not,"  said  the  girl,  a  little 
sharply.  "  Why,  there 's  that  draft  fur  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  that  kern  only  last 
week  from  the  Doctor's  fur  extras." 


116  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

"Yes,"  replied  Hays,  with  a  slight  knit- 
ting of  the  brows,  "the  Doctor  mout  hev 
writ  more  particklers,  but  parsons  ain't  allus 
business  men.  I  reckon  these  here  extrys 
were  to  push  Jack  along  in  the  term,  as  the 
Doctor  knew  I  wanted  him  back  here  in  the 
spring,  now  that  his  brother  has  got  to  be 
too  stiff-necked  and  self-opinionated  to  do 
his  father's  work."  It  seemed  from  this 
that  there  had  been  a  quarrel  between  Hays 
and  his  eldest  son,  who  conducted  his  branch 
business  at  Sacramento,  and  who  had  in  a 
passion  threatened  to  set  up  a  rival  estab- 
lishment to  his  father's.  And  it  was  also 
evident  from  the  manner  of  the  girl  that  she 
was  by  no  means  a  strong  partisan  of  her 
father  in  the  quarrel. 

"You'd  better  find  out  first  how  all  the 
schoolin'  and  trainin'  of  Jack's  is  goin'  to 
jibe  with  the  Ranch,  and  if  he  ain't  been 
eddicated  out  of  all  knowledge  of  station 
business  or  k'eer  for  it.  New  York  ain't 
Hays'  Ranch,  and  these  yer  '  assemblies '  and 
4  harmony '  doin's  and  their  airs  and  graces 
may  put  him  out  of  conceit  with  our  plain 
ways.  I  reckon  ye  did  n't  take  that  to  mind 
when  you  've  been  hustlin'  round  payin'  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollar  drafts  for  Jack  and 


A   NIGHT  AT  "  HA  FS."  117 

quo'llin'  with  Bijah  !  I  ain't  sayin'  nothin', 
father,  only  mebbe  if  Bijah  had  had  drafts 
and  extrys  flourished  around  him  a  little 
more,  mebbe  he  'd  have  been  more  polite  and 
not  so  rough  spoken.  Mebbe,"  she  contin- 
ued with  a  little  laugh,  "  even  /'d  be  a  little 
more  in  the  style  to  suit  Master  Jack  when 
he  comes  ef  I  had  three  hundred  dollars' 
worth  of  convent  schoolin'  like  Mamie  Har- 
ris." 

"  Yes,  and  you  'd  have  only  made  yourself 
fair  game  for  ev'ry  schemin',  lazy  sport  or 
counter-jumper  along  the  road  from  this  to 
Sacramento !  "  responded  Hays  savagely. 

Zuleika  laughed  again  constrainedly,  but 
in  a  way  that  might  have  suggested  that  this 
dreadful  contingency  was  still  one  that  it 
was  possible  to  contemplate  without  entire 
consternation.  As  she  moved  slowly  towards 
the  door  she  stopped,  with  her  hand  on  the 
lock,  and  said  tentatively  :  "  I  reckon  you 
won't  be  wantin'  any  supper  before  you  go  ? 
You  're  almost  sure  to  be  offered  suthin' 
up  at  Horseley's,  while  if  I  have  to  cook  you 
up  suthin'  now  and  still  have  the  men's  reg- 
ular supper  to  get  at  seven,  it  makes  all  the 
expense  of  an  extra  meal." 

Hays  hesitated.    He  would  have  preferred 


118  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

.his  supper  now,  and  had  his  daughter  pressed 
him  would  have  accepted  it.  But  economy, 
which  was  one  of  Zuleika's  inherited  in- 
stincts, vaguely  appearing  to  him  to  be  a 
virtue,  interchangeable  with  chastity  and  ab- 
stemiousness, was  certainly  to  be  encouraged 
in  a  young  girl.  It  hardly  seems  possible 
that  with  an  eye  single  to  the  integrity  of 
the  larder  she  could  ever  look  kindly  on 
the  blandishments  of  his  sex,  or,  indeed,  be 
exposed  to  them.  He  said  simply :  "  Don't 
cook  for  me,"  and  resumed  his  attitude  be- 
fore the  fire  as  the  girl  left  the  room. 

As  he  sat  there,  grim  and  immovable  as 
one  of  the  battered  fire-dogs  before  him,  the 
wind  in  the  chimney  seemed  to  carry  on  a 
deep-throated,  dejected,  and  confidential  con- 
versation with  him,  but  really  had  very  little 
to  reveal.  There  were  no  haunting  reminis- 
cences of  his  married  life  in  this  room,  which 
he  had  always  occupied  in  preference  to  the 
company  or  sitting-room  beyond.  There 
were  no  familiar  shadows  of  the  past  lurking 
in  its  corners  to  pervade  his  reverie.  When 
he  did  reflect,  which  was  seldom,  there  was 
always  in  his  mind  a  vague  idea  of  a  central 
injustice  to  which  he  had  been  subjected, 
that  was  to  be  avoided  by  circuitous  move- 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HATS."  119 

ment,  to  be  hidden  by  work,  but  never  to  be 
surmounted.  And  to-night  he  was  going 
out  in  the  storm,  which  he  could  understand 
and  fight,  as  he  had  often  done  before,  and 
he  was  going  to  drive  a  bargain  with  a  man 
like  himself  and  get  the  better  of  him  if  he 
could,  as  he  had  done  before,  and  another 
day  would  be  gone,  and  that  central  injustice 
which  he  could  not  understand  would  be 
circumvented,  and  he  would  still  be  holding 
his  own  in  the  world.  And  the  God  of 
Israel  whom  he  believed  in,  and  who  was  a 
hard  but  conscientious  Providence,  some- 
thing like  himself,  would  assist  him  perhaps 
some  day  to  the  understanding  of  this  same 
vague  injustice  which  He  was,  for  some 
strange  reason,  permitting.  But  never  more 
unrelenting  and  unsparing  of  others  than 
when  under  conviction  of  Sin  himself,  and 
never  more  harsh  and  unforgiving  than  when 
fresh  from  the  contemplation  of  the  Divine 
Mercy,  he  still  sat  there  grimly  holding  his 
hand  to  a  warmth  that  never  seemed  to  get 
nearer  his  heart  than  that,  when  his  daugh- 
ter reentered  the  room  with  his  carpet-bag. 

To  rise,  put  on  his  coat  and  overcoat,  se- 
cure a  fur  cap  on  his  head  by  a  woolen  com- 
forter, covering  his  ears  and  twined  round 


120  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

his  throat,  and  to  rigidly  offer  a  square  and 
weather-beaten  cheek  to  his  daughter's  dusty 
kiss,  did  not,  apparently,  suggest  any  linger- 
ing or  hesitation.  The  sled  was  at  the  door, 
which,  for  a  tumultuous  moment,  opened  on 
the  storm  and  the  white  vision  of  a  horse 
knee-deep  in  a  drift,  and  then  closed  behind 
him.  Zuleika  shot  the  bolt,  brushed  some 
flakes  of  the  invading  snow  from  the  mat, 
and,  after  frugally  raking  down  the  fire  on 
the  hearth  her  father  had  just  quitted,  re- 
tired through  the  long  passage  to  the  kitchen 
and  her  domestic  supervision. 

It  was  a  few  hours  later,  supper  had  long 
past ;  the  "  hands  "  had  one  by  one  returned 
to  their  quarters  under  the  roof  or  in  the 
adjacent  lofts,  and  Zuleika  and  the  two  maids 
had  at  last  abandoned  the  kitchen  for  their 
bedrooms  beyond.  Zuleika  herself,  by  the 
light  of  a  solitary  candle,  had  entered  the 
office  and  had  dropped  meditatively  into  a 
chair,  as  she  slowly  raked  the  warm  ashes 
over  the  still  smouldering  fire.  The  barking 
of  dogs  had  momentarily  attracted  her  at- 
tention, but  it  had  suddenly  ceased.  It  was 
followed,  however,  by  a  more  startling  inci- 
dent, —  a  slight  movement  outside,  and  an 
attempt  to  raise  the  window  ! 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  121 

She  was  not  frightened  ;  perhaps  there 
was  little  for  her  to  fear ;  it  was  known  that 
Hays  kept  no  money  in  the  house,  the  safe 
was  only  used  for  securities  and  contracts, 
and  there  were  half  a  dozen  men  within  call. 
It  was,  therefore,  only  her  usual  active, 
burning  curiosity  for  novel  incident  that 
made  her  run  to  the  window  and  peer  out ; 
but  it  was  with  a  spontaneous  cry  of  aston- 
ishment she  turned  and  darted  to  the  front 
door,  and  opened  it  to  the  muffled  figure  of 
a  young  man. 

"  Jack !  Saints  alive !  Why,  of  all 
things !  "  she  gasped,  incoherently. 

He  stopped  her  with  an  impatient  gesture 
and  a  hand  that  prevented  her  from  closing 
the  door  again. 

"  Dad  ain't  here  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"No." 

"When '11  he  be  back?" 

"  Not  to-night." 

"  Good,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  door 
again.  She  could  see  a  motionless  horse  and 
sleigh  in  the  road,  with  a  woman  holding 
the  reins. 

He  beckoned  to  the  woman,  who  drove  to 
the  door  and  jumped  out.  Tall,  handsome, 
and  audacious,  she  looked  at  Zuleika  with  a 


122  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS" 

quick  laugh  of  confidence,  as  at  some  recog- 
nized absurdity. 

"  Go  in  there,"  said  the  young  man,  open- 
ing the  door  of  the  office ;  "  I  '11  come  back 
in  a  minute." 

As  she  entered,  still  smiling,  as  if  taking 
part  in  some  humorous  but  risky  situation, 
he  turned  quickly  to  Zuleika  and  said  in  a 
low  voice :  "  Where  can  we  talk  ?  " 

The  girl  held  out  her  hand  and  glided  hur- 
riedly through  the  passage  until  she  reached 
a  door,  which  she  opened.  By  the  light  of  a 
dying  fire  he  could  see  it  was  her  bedroom. 
Lighting  a  candle  on  the  mantel,  she  looked 
eagerly  in  his  face  as  he  threw  aside  his  muf- 
fler and  opened  his  coat.  It  disclosed  a 
spare,  youthful  figure,  and  a  thin,  weak  face 
that  a  budding  mustache  only  seemed  to 
make  still  more  immature.  For  an  instant 
brother  and  sister  gazed  at  each  other.  As- 
tonishment on  her  part,  nervous  impatience 
on  his,  apparently  repressed  any  demonstra- 
tion of  family  affection.  Yet  when  she  was 
about  to  speak  he  stopped  her  roughly. 

"  There  now ;  don't  talk.  I  know  what 
you  're  goin'  to  say  —  could  say  it  myself  if 
I  wanted  to  —  and  it 's  no  use.  Well  then, 
here  I  am.  You  saw  her.  Well,  she 's  my 


A   NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  123 

wife  —  we  've  been  married  three  months. 
Yes,  my  wife;  married  three  months  ago. 
I  'm  here  because  I  ran  away  from  school  — 
that  is,  I  have  rft  been  there  for  the  last  three 
months.  I  came  out  with  her  last  steamer ; 
we  went  up  to  the  Summit  Hotel  last  night  — 
where  they  did  n't  know  me  —  until  we  could 
see  how  the  land  lay,  before  popping  down 
on  dad.  I  happened  to  learn  that  he  was 
out  to-night,  and  I  brought  her  down  here  to 
have  a  talk.  We  can  go  back  again  before 
he  comes,  you  know,  unless"  — 

"  But,"  interrupted  the  girl,  with  sudden 
practicality,  "  you  say  you  ain't  been  at  Doc- 
tor Dawson's  for  three  months !  Why,  only 
last  week  he  drew  on  dad  for  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  for  your  extras !  " 

He  glanced  around  him  and  then  arranged 
his  necktie  in  the  glass  above  the  mantel 
with  a  nervous  laugh. 

"  OA,  that !  I  fixed  that  up,  and  got  the 
money  for  it  in  New  York  to  pay  our  pas- 
sage with.  It 's  all  right,  you  know." 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  girl  stood  looking  at  the  ingenious 
forger  with  an  odd,  breathless  smile.  It 
was  difficult  to  determine,  however,  if  grati- 
fied curiosity  were  not  its  most  dominant  ex- 
pression. 

"And  you've  got  a  wife — and  that's 
her  ?  "  she  resumed. 

"Yes." 

"  Where  did  you  first  meet  her  ?  Who  is 
she?" 

"  She  's  an  actress  —  mighty  popular  in 
'Frisco  —  I  mean  New  York.  Lot  o'  chaps 
tried  to  get  her  —  I  cut  'em  out.  For  all 
dad's  trying  to  keep  me  at  Dawson's  —  I 
ain't  such  a  fool,  eh  ?  " 

Nevertheless,  as  he  stood  there  stroking 
his  fair  mustache,  his  astuteness  did  not 
seem  to  impress  his  sister  to  enthusiastic  as- 
sent. Yet  she  did  not  relax  her  breathless, 
inquisitive  smile  as  she  went  on :  — 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
dad?" 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  125 

He  turned  upon  her  querulously. 

"  Well,  that 's  what  I  want  to  talk  about." 

"  You  '11  catch  it !  "  she  said  impressively. 

But  here  her  brother's  nervousness  broke 
out  into  a  weak,  impotent  fury.  It  was  evi- 
dent, too,  that  in  spite  of  its  apparent  spon- 
taneous irritation  its  intent  was  studied. 
Catch  it!  Would  he?  Oh,  yes!  Well, 
she  'd  see  who  'd  catch  it !  Not  him.  No, 
he  'd  had  enough  of  this  meanness,  and 
wanted  it  ended !  He  was  n't  a  woman  to 
be  treated  like  his  sister,  —  like  their  mother 
—  like  their  brother,  if  it  came  to  that,  for 
he  knew  how  he  was  to  be  brought  back  to 
take  Bijah's  place  in  the  spring  ;  he  'd  heard 
the  whole  story.  No,  he  was  going  to  stand 
up  for  his  rights,  —  he  was  going  to  be 
treated  as  the  son  of  a  man  who  was  worth 
half  a  million  ought  to  be  treated !  He 
was  n't  going  to  be  skimped,  while  his  fa- 
ther was  wallowing  in  money  that  he  did  n't 
know  what  to  do  with,  —  money  that  by 
rights  ought  to  have  been  given  to  their  mo- 
ther and  their  sister.  Why,  even  the  law 
would  n't  permit  such  meanness  —  if  he  was 
dead.  No,  he  'd  come  back  with  Lottie,  his 
wife,  to  show  his  father  that  there  was  one 
of  the  family  that  could  n't  be  fooled  and 


126  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS" 

bullied,  and  wouldn't  put  up  with  it  any 
longer.  There  was  going  to  be  a  fair  divi- 
sion of  the  -property,  and  his  sister  Annie's 
property,  and  hers  —  Zuleika's  —  too,  if 
she  'd  have  the  pluck  to  speak  up  for  her- 
self. All  this  and  much  more  he  said.  Yet 
even  while  his  small  fury  was  genuine  and 
characteristic,  there  was  such  an  evident  in- 
congruity between  himself  and  his  speech 
that  it  seemed  to  fit  him  loosely,  and  in  a 
measure  flapped  in  his  gestures  like  an- 
other's garment.  Zuleika,  who  had  exhib- 
ited neither  disgust  nor  sympathy  with  his 
rebellion,  but  had  rather  appeared  to  enjoy 
it  as  a  novel  domestic  performance,  the  mo- 
rality of  which  devolved  solely  upon  the  per- 
former, retained  her  curious  smile.  And 
then  a  knock  at  the  door  startled  them. 

It  was  the  stranger,  —  slightly  apologetic 
and  still  humorous,  but  firm  and  self-confi- 
dent withal.  She  was  sorry  to  interrupt 
their  family  council,  but  the  fire  was  going 
out  where  she  sat,  and  she  would  like  a  cup 
of  tea  or  some  refreshment.  She  did  not 
look  at  Jack,  but,  completely  ignoring  him, 
addressed  herself  to  Zuleika  with  what 
seemed  to  be  a  direct  challenge ;  in  that 
feminine  eye-grapple  there  was  a  quick,  in- 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  127 

stinctive,  and  final  struggle  between  the  two 
women.  The  stranger  triumphed.  Zulei- 
ka's  vacant  smile  changed  to  one  of  submis- 
sion, and  then,  equally  ignoring  her  brother 
in  this  double  defeat,  she  hastened  to  the 
kitchen  to  do  the  visitor's  bidding.  The 
woman  closed  the  door  behind  her,  and  took 
Zuleika's  place  before  the  fire. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said,  in  a  half -contemptuous 
toleration. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Jack,  in  an  equally  ill-dis- 
guised discontent,  but  an  evident  desire  to 
placate  the  woman  before  him.  "  It 's  all 
right,  you  know.  I  've  had  my  say.  It  '11 
come  right,  Lottie,  you  '11  see." 

The  woman  smiled  again,  and  glanced 
around  the  bare  walls  of  the  room. 

"  And  I  suppose,"  she  said,  drily,  "  when 
it  comes  right  I  'm  to  take  the  place  of  your 
sister  in  the  charge  of  this  workhouse  and 
succeed  to  the  keys  of  that  safe  in  the  other 
room  ?  " 

"  It  '11  come  all  right,  I  tell  you ;  you  can 
fix  things  up  here  any  way  you  '11  like  when 
we  get  the  old  man  straight,"  said  Jack,  with 
the  iteration  of  feebleness.  "  And  as  to  that 
safe,  I  've  seen  it  chock  full  of  securities." 

"  It  '11  hold  one  less  to-night,"  she  said, 
looking  at  the  fire. 


128  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  he  asked, 
in  querulous  suspicion. 

She  drew  a  paper  from  her  pocket. 

"  It 's  that  draft  of  yours  that  you  were 
crazy  enough  to  sign  Dawson's  name  to. 
It  was  lying  out  there  on  the  desk.  I  reckon 
it  is  n't  a  thing  you  care  to  have  kept  as 
evidence,  even  by  your  father." 

She  held  it  in  the  flames  until  it  was  con- 
sumed. 

"  By  Jove,  your  head  is  level,  Lottie !  " 
he  said,  with  an  admiration  that  was  not, 
however,  without  a  weak  reserve  of  suspi- 
cion. 

"  No,  it  is  n't,  or  I  would  n't  be  here,"  she 
said,  curtly.  Then  she  added,  as  if  dismiss- 
ing the  subject,  "  Well,  what  did  you  tell 
her?" 

"  Oh,  I  said  I  met  you  in  New  York. 
You  see  I  thought  she  might  think  it  queer 
if  she  knew  I  only  met  you  in  San  Francisco 
three  weeks  ago.  Of  course  I  said  we  were 
married." 

She  looked  at  him  with  weary  astonish- 
ment. 

"  And  of  course,  whether  things  go  right 
or  not,  she  '11  find  out  that  I  've  got  a  hus- 
band living,  that  I  never  met  you  in  New 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  129 

York,  but  on  the  steamer,  and  that  you  Ve 
lied.  I  don't  see  the  use  of  it.  You  said 
you  were  going  to  tell  the  whole  thing 
squarely  and  say  the  truth,  and  that 's  why  I 
came  to  help  you." 

44  Yes ;  but  don't  you  see,  hang  it  all !  " 
he  stammered,  in  the  irritation  of  weak  con- 
fusion, "  I  had  to  tell  her  something.  Father 
won't  dare  to  tell  her  the  truth,  no  more  than 
he  will  the  neighbors.  He  '11  hush  it  up, 
you  bet ;  and  when  we  get  this  thing  fixed 
you  '11  go  and  get  your  divorce,  you  know, 
and  we  '11  be  married  privately  on  the 
square." 

He  looked  so  vague,  so  immature,  yet  so 
fatuously  self-confident,  that  the  woman  ex- 
tended her  hand  with  a  laugh  and  tapped 
him  on  the  back  as  she  might  have  patted 
a  dog.  Then  she  disappeared  to  follow  Zu- 
leika  in  the  kitchen. 

When  the  two  women  returned  together 
they  were  evidently  on  the  best  of  terms. 
So  much  so  that  the  man,  with  the  easy  re- 
action of  a  shallow  nature,  became  sanguine 
and  exalted,  even  to  an  ostentatious  exhibi- 
tion of  those  New  York  graces  on  which  the 
paternal  Hays  had  set  such  store.  He  com- 
placently explained  the  methods  by  which  he 


130  A  NIGHT  AT   "HAYS." 

had  deceived  Dr.  Dawson ;  how  he  had  him- 
self written  a  letter  from  his  father  com- 
manding him  to  return  to  take  his  brother's 
place,  and  how  he  had  shown  it  to  the  Doc- 
tor and  been  three  months  in  San  Francisco 
looking  for  work  and  assisting  Lottie  at  the 
theatre,  until  a  conviction  of  the  righteous- 
ness of  his  cause,  perhaps  combined  with  the 
fact  that  they  were  also  short  of  money  and 
she  had  no  engagement,  impelled  him  to  his 
present  heroic  step.  All  of  which  Zuleika 
listened  to  with  childish  interest,  but  superior 
appreciation  of  his  companion.  The  fact 
that  this  woman  was  an  actress,  an  abomi- 
nation vaguely  alluded  to  by  her  father  as 
being  even  more  mysteriously  wicked  than 
her  sister  and  mother,  and  correspondingly 
exciting,  as  offering  a  possible  permanent 
relief  to  the  monotony  of  her  home  life, 
seemed  to  excuse  her  brother's  weakness. 
She  was  almost  ready  to  become  his  partisan 
—  after  she  had  seen  her  father. 

c/ 

They  had  talked  largely  of  their  plans  ; 
they  had  settled  small  details  of  the  future 
and  the  arrangement  of  the  property ;  they 
had  agreed  that  Zuleika  should  be  relieved  of 
her  household  drudgery,  and  sent  to  a  fashion, 
able  school  in  San  Francisco  with  a  music 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  131 

teacher  and  a  dressmaker.  They  had  dis- 
cussed everything  but  the  precise  manner  in 
which  the  revelation  should  be  conveyed  to 
Hays.  There  was  still  plenty  of  time  for 
that,  for  he  would  not  return  until  to-morrow 
at  noon,  and  it  was  already  tacitly  under- 
stood that  the  vehicle  of  transmission  should 
be  a  letter  from  the  Summit  Hotel.  The 
possible  contingency  of  a  sudden  outburst  of 
human  passion  not  entirely  controlled  by  re- 
ligious feeling  was  to  be  guarded  against. 

They  were  sitting  comfortably  before  the 
replenished  fire  ;  the  wind  was  still  moaning 
in  the  chimney,  when,  suddenly,  in  a  lull  of 
the  storm  the  sound  of  sleigh-bells  seemed  to 
fill  the  room.  It  was  followed  by  a  voice 
from  without,  and,  with  a  hysterical  cry,  Zu- 
leika  started  to  her  feet.  The  same  breath- 
less smile  with  which  she  had  greeted  her 
brother  an  hour  ago  was  upon  her  lips  as  she 
gasped :  — 

"  Lord,  save  us  !  —  but  it 's  dad  come 
back!" 

I  grieve  to  say  that  here  the  doughty  re- 
dresser  of  domestic  wrongs  and  retriever  of 
the  family  honor  lapsed  white-faced  in  his 
chair  idealess  and  tremulous.  It  was  his 
frailer  companion  who  rose  to  the  occasion 


132  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

and  even  partly  dragged  him  with  her. 
"  Go  back  to  the  hotel,"  she  said  quickly, 
"  and  take  the  sled  with  you,  —  you  are  not 
fit  to  face  him  now  !  But  he  does  not  know 
me,  and  I  will  stay  !  "  To  the  staring  Zu- 
leika  :  "I  am  a  stranger  stopped  by  a  bro- 
ken sleigh  on  my  way  to  the  hotel.  Leave 
the  rest  to  me.  Now  clear  out,  both  of  you. 
I '11  let  him  in." 

She  looked  so  confident,  self-contained, 
and  superior,  that  the  thought  of  opposition 
never  entered  their  minds,  and  as  an  im- 
patient rapping  rose  from  the  door  they  let 
her,  with  a  half -impatient,  half-laughing  ges- 
ture, drive  them  before  her  from  the  room. 
When  they  had  disappeared  in  the  distance, 
she  turned  to  the  front  door,  unbolted  and 
opened  it.  Hays  blundered  in  out  of  the 
snow  with  a  muttered  exclamation,  and  then, 
as  the  light  from  the  open  office  door  re- 
vealed a  stranger,  started  and  fell  back. 

"  Miss  Hays  is  busy,"  said  the  woman 
quietly,  "  I  am  afraid,  on  my  account.  But 
my  sleigh  broke  down  on  the  way  to  the 
hotel  and  I  was  forced  to  get  out  here.  I 
suppose  this  is  Mr.  Hays  ?  " 

A  strange  woman  —  by  her  dress  and  ap- 
pearance a  very  worldling  —  and  even  braver 


A   NIGHT  AT  "  HAYS.'*  133 

in  looks  and  apparel  than  many  he  had  seen 
in  the  cities  —  seemed,  in  spite  of  all  his 
precautions,  to  have  fallen  short  of  the  hotel 
and  been  precipitated  upon  him  !  Yet  under 
the  influence  of  some  odd  abstraction  he  was 
affected  by  it  less  than  he  could  have  be- 
lieved. He  even  achieved  a  rude  bow  as  he 
bolted  the  door  and  ushered  her  into  the 
office.  More  than  that,  he  found  himself 
explaining  to  the  fair  trespasser  the  reasons 
of  his  return  to  his  own  home.  For,  like  a 
direct  man,  he  had  a  consciousness  of  some 
inconsistency  in  his  return  —  or  in  the  cir- 
cumstances that  induced  a  change  of  plans 
which  might  conscientiously  require  an  ex- 
planation. 

"  You  see,  ma'am,  a  rather  singular  thing 
happened  to  me  after  I  passed  the  summit. 
Three  times  I  lost  the  track,  got  off  it  some- 
how, and  found  myself  traveling  in  a  circle. 
The  third  time,  when  I  struck  my  own  tracks 
again,  I  concluded  I  'd  just  follow  them  back 
here.  I  suppose  I  might  have  got  the  road 
again  by  tryin'  and  fightin'  the  snow  —  but 
ther's  some  things  not  worth  the  fightin'. 
This  was  a  matter  of  business,  and,  after  all, 
ma'am,  business  ain't  everything  is  it  ?  " 

He  was  evidently  in  some  unusual  mood, 


134  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

the  mood  that  with  certain  reticent  natures 
often  compels  them  to  make  their  brief  con- 
fidences to  utter  strangers  rather  than  impart 
them  to  those  intimate  friends  who  might 
remind  them  of  their  weakness.  She  agreed 
with  him  pleasantly,  but  not  so  obviously  as 
to  excite  suspicion.  "  And  you  preferred  to 
let  your  business  go,  and  come  back  to  the 
comfort  of  your  own  home  and  family." 

"  The  comfort  of  my  home  and  family  ?  " 
he  repeated  in  a  dry,  deliberate  voice. 
"  Well,  I  reckon  I  ain't  been  tempted  much 
by  that.  That  is  n't  what  I  meant."  But 
he  went  back  to  the  phrase,  repeating  it 
grimly,  as  if  it  were  some  mandatory  text. 
"  The  comfort  of  my  own  home  and  fam- 
ily !  Well,  Satan  has  n't  set  that  trap  for 
my  feet  yet,  ma'am.  No ;  ye  saw  my  daugh- 
ter ?  well,  that 's  all  my  family ;  ye  see  this 
room?  that's  all  my  home.  My  wife  ran 
away  from  me ;  my  daughter  cleared  out  too, 
my  eldest  son  as  was  with  me  here  has 
quo'lled  with  me  and  reckons  to  set  up  a 
rival  business  agin  me.  No,"  he  said,  still 
more  meditatively  and  deliberately ;  "  it 
was  n't  to  come  back  to  the  comforts  of  my 
own  home  and  family  that  I  faced  round  on 
Heavy  Tree  Hill,  I  reckon." 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  135 

As  the  woman,  for  certain  reasons,  had  no 
desire  to  check  this  auspicious  and  unlocked 
for  confidence,  she  waited  patiently.  Hays 
remained  silent  for  an  instant,  warming  his 
hands  before  the  fire,  and  then  looked  up 
interrogatively. 

"  A  professor  of  religion,  ma'am,  or  under 
conviction  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  the  lady  smiling. 

"Excuse  me,  but  in  spite  of  your  fine 
clothes  I  reckoned  you  had  a  serious  look 
just  now.  A  reader  of  Scripture,  may  be?  " 

"  I  know  the  Bible." 

"  You  remember  when  the  angel  with  the 
flaniin'  sword  appeared  unto  Saul  on  the 
road  to  Damascus  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  It  mout  hev  been  suthin'  in  that  style 
that  stopped  me,"  he  said  slowly  and  tenta- 
tively. "  Though  nat'rally  /  did  n't  see 
anything,  and  only  had  the  queer  feelin'. 
It  might  hev  been  that  shied  my  mare  off 
the  track." 

"  But  Saul  was  up  to  some  wickedness, 
was  n't  he  ?  "  said  the  lady  smilingly,  "  while 
you  were  simply  going  somewhere  on  busi- 
ness?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Hays  thoughtfully,  "  but  my 


136  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

business  might  hev  seemed  like  persecution. 
I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  what  it  was  if  you'  d 
care  to  listen.  But  mebbe  you're  tired. 
Mebbe  you  want  to  retire.  You  know," 
he  went  on  with  a  sudden  hospitable  out- 
burst, "  you  need  n't  be  in  any  hurry  to  go  ; 
we  kin  take  care  of  you  here  to-night,  and 
it  '11  cost  you  nothin'.  And  I  '11  send  you 
on  with  my  sleigh  in  the  mornin'.  Per'aps 
you  'd  like  suthin'  to  eat  —  a  cup  of  tea  — 
or — I  '11  call  Zuleika ;  "  and  he  rose  with  an 
expression  of  awkward  courtesy. 

But  the  lady,  albeit  with  a  self-satisfied 
sparkle  in  her  dark  eyes,  here  carelessly  as- 
sured him  that  Zuleika  had  already  given 
her  refreshment,  and,  indeed,  was  at  that 
moment  preparing  her  own  room  for  her. 
She  begged  he  would  not  interrupt  his  in- 
teresting story. 

Hays  looked  relieved. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I  won't  call  her,  for  what 
I  was  goin'  to  say  ain't  exackly  the  sort  o* 
thin'  for  an  innocent,  simple  sort  o'  thing 
like  her  to  hear  —  I  mean,"  he  interrupted 
himself  hastily  —  "  that  folks  of  more  expe- 
rience of  the  world  like  you  and  me  don't 
mind  speakin'  of  —  I  'm  sorter  takin'  it  for 
granted  that  you  're  a  married  woman, 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  137 

The  lady,  who  had  regarded  him  with  a 
sudden  rigidity,  here  relaxed  her  expression 
and  nodded. 

"Well,"  continued  Hays,  resuming  his 
place  by  the  fire,  "  you  see  this  yer  man  I 
was  goin'  to  see  lives  about  four  miles  be- 
yond the  summit  on  a  ranch  that  furnishes 
most  of  the  hay  for  the  stock  that  side  of  the 
Divide.  He  's  bin  holdin'  off  his  next  year's 
contracts  with  me,  hopin'  to  make  better 
terms  from  the  prospects  of  a  late  spring 
and  higher  prices.  He  held  his  head  mighty 
high  and  talked  big  of  waitin'  his  own  time. 
I  happened  to  know  he  could  n't  do  it." 

He  put  his  hands  on  his  knees  and  stared 
at  the  fire,  and  then  went  on :  — 

"  Ye  see  this  man  had  had  crosses  and 
family  trials.  He  had  a  wife  that  left  him 
to  jine  a  lot  of  bally  dancers  and  painted 
women  in  the  'Frisco  playhouses  when  he 
was  livin'  in  the  southern  country.  You  '11 
say  that  was  like  my  own  case,  —  and  mebbe 
that  was  why  it  came  to  him  to  tell  me  about 
it,  —  but  the  difference  betwixt  him  and  me 
was  that  instead  of  restin'  unto  the  Lord  and 
findin'  Him,  and  pluckin'  out  the  eye  that 
offended  him  'cordin'  to  Scripter,  as  I  did, 
he  followed  after  her  tryin'  to  get  her  back, 


138  A  NIGHT  AT   "HAYS." 

until,  findin'  that  was  n  't  no  use,  he  took  a 
big  disgust  and  came  up  here  to  hide  hisself, 
where  there  was  n't  no  playhouse  nor  play- 
actors, and  no  wimmen  but  Injin  squaws. 
He  preempted  the  land,  and  nat' rally,  there 
bein'  no  one  ez  cared  to  live  there  but  him- 
self, he  had  it  all  his  own  way,  made  it  pay, 
and,  as  I  was  sayin'  before,  held  his  head 
high  for  prices.  Well  —  you  ain't  gettin' 
tired,  ma'am?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  lady,  resting  her  cheek  on 
her  hand  and  gazing  on  the  fire,  "  it 's  all 
very  interesting ;  and  so  odd  that  you  two 
men,  with  nearly  the  same  experiences, 
should  be  neighbors." 

"  Say  buyer  and  seller,  ma'am,  not  neigh- 
bors —  at  least  Scriptoorily  —  nor  friends. 
Well,  —  now  this  is  where  the  Speshal  Prov- 
idence comes  in,  —  only  this  afternoon  Jim 
Briggs,  hearin'  me  speak  of  Horseley's  off- 
ishness  "  — 

"  Whose  offishness  ?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"  Horseley's  offishness,  —  Horseley  's  the 
name  of  the  man  I  'm  talkin'  about.  Well, 
hearin'  that,  he  says  :  "  You  hold  on,  Hays, 
and  he  '11  climb  down.  That  wife  of  his 
has  left  the  stage  —  got  sick  of  it  —  and  is 
driftin'  round  in  'Frisco  with  some  fellow. 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  139 

When  Horseley  gets  to  hear  that,  you  can't 
keep  him  here,  —  he  '11  settle  up,  sell  out,  and 
realize  on  everything  he's  got  to  go  after 
her  agin,  —  you  bet.  That 's  what  Briggs 
said.  Well,  that 's  what  sent  me  up  to  Horse- 
ley's  to-night  —  to  get  there,  drop  the  news, 
and  then  pin  him  down  to  that  contract." 

"  It  looked  like  a  good  stroke  of  business 
and  a  fair  one,"  said  the  lady  in  an  odd 
voic^  It  was  so  odd  that  Hays  looked  up. 
But  she  had  somewhat  altered  her  position, 
and  was  gazing  at  the  ceiling,  and  with  her 
hand  to  her  face  seemed  to  have  just  recov- 
ered from  a  slight  yawn,  at  which  he  hesita- 
ted with  a  new  and  timid  sense  of  politeness. 

"  You'  re  gettin'  tired,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  no ! "  she  said  in  the  same 
voice,  but  clearing  her  throat  with  a  little 
cough.  "  And  why  did  n't  you  see  this  Mr. 
Horseley  after  all  ?  Oh,  I  forgot !  —  you 
said  you  changed  your  mind  from  something 
you  'd  heard." 

He  had  turned  his  eyes  to  the  fire  again, 
but  without  noticing  as  he  did  so  that  she 
slowly  moved  her  face,  still  half  hidden  by 
her  hand,  towards  him  and  was  watching 
him  intently. 

"  No,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  nothin'  I  heard, 


140  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

some  thin'  I  felt.  It  mout  hev  been  that  that 
set  me  off  the  track.  It  kem  to  me  all  of  a 
sudden  that  he  might  be  sittin'  thar  calm 
and  peaceful  like  ez  I  might  be  here,  hevin' 
forgot  all  about  her  and  his  trouble,  and 
here  was  me  goin'  to  drop  down  upon  him 
and  start  it  all  fresh  agin.  It  looked  a 
little  like  persecution  —  yes,  like  persecution. 
I  got  rid  of  it,  sayin'  to  myself  it  was  busi- 
ness. But  I  'd  got  off  the  road  meantime, 
and  had  to  find  it  again,  and  whenever  I  got 
back  to  the  track  and  was  pointed  for  his 
house,  it  all  seemed  to  come  back  on  me  and 
set  me  off  agin.  When  that  had  happened 
three  times,  I  turned  round  and  started  for 
home." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  the  lady, 
with  a  discordant  laugh,  "  that  you  believe, 
because  you  did  n't  go  there  and  break  the 
news,  that  nobody  else  will  ?  That  he  won't 
hear  of  it  from  the  first  man  he  meets  ?  " 

"  He  don't  meet  any  one  up  where  he 
lives,  and  only  Briggs  and  myself  know  it, 
and  I  '11  see  that  Briggs  don't  tell.  But  it 
was  mighty  queer  this  whole  thing  comin' 
upon  me  suddenly,  —  was  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Very  queer,"  replied  the  lady ;  "  for  "  — 
with  the  same  metallic  laugh —  "you  don't 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  141 

seem  to  be  given  to  this  kind  of  weakness 
with  your  own  family." 

If  there  was  any  doubt  as  to  the  sarcastic 
suggestion  of  her  voice,  there  certainly  could 
be  none  in  the  wicked  glitter  of  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  his  face  under  her  shading  hand. 
But  haply  he  seemed  unconscious  of  both, 
and  even  accepted  her  statement  without  an 
ulterior  significance. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  communingly,  to  the  glar- 
ing embers  of  the  hearth,  "  it  must  have  been 
a  special  revelation." 

There  was  something  so  fatuous  and  one- 
idea'd  in  his  attitude  and  expression,  so  mon- 
strously inconsistent  and  inadequate  to  what 
was  going  on  around  him,  and  so  hopelessly 
stupid  —  if  a  mere  simulation  —  that  the 
angry  suspicion  that  he  was  acting  a  part 
slowly  faded  from  her  eyes,  and  a  hysterical 
smile  began  to  twitch  her  set  lips.  She  still 
gazed  at  him.  The  wind  howled  drearily  in 
the  chimney ;  all  that  was  economic,  grim, 
and  cheerless  in  the  room  seemed  to  gather 
as  flitting  shadows  around  that  central  fig- 
ure. Suddenly  she  arose  with  such  a  quick 
rustling  of  her  skirts  that  he  lifted  his  eyes 
with  a  start ;  for  she  was  standing  immedi- 
ately before  him,  her  hands  behind  her,  her 


142  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

handsome,  audacious  face  bent  smilingly  for- 
ward, and  her  bold,  brilliant  eyes  within  a 
foot  of  his  own. 

"Now,  Mr.  Hays,  do  you  want  to  know 
what  this  warning  or  special  revelation  of 
yours  really  meant  ?  Well,  it  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  that  man  on  the  summit. 
No.  The  whole  interest,  gist,  and  meaning 
of  it  was  simply  this,  that  you  should  turn 
round  and  come  straight  back  here  and  "  — 
she  drew  back  and  made  him  an  exagger- 
ated theatrical  curtsey  —  "  have  the  supreme 
pleasure  of  making  my  acquaintance  !  That 
was  all.  And  now,  as  you  've  had  it,  in  five 
minutes  I  must  be  off.  You  've  offered  me 
already  your  horse  and  sleigh  to  go  to  the 
summit.  I  accept  it  and  go !  Good-by !  " 

He  knew  nothing  of  a  woman's  coquettish 
humor ;  he  knew  still  less  of  that  mimic 
stage  from  which  her  present  voice,  gesture, 
and  expression  were  borrowed  ;  he  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  burlesque  emotions  which 
that  voice,  gesture,  and  expression  were  sup- 
posed to  portray,  and  finally  and  fatally  he 
was  unable  to  detect  the  feminine  hysteric 
jar  and  discord  that  underlay  it  all.  He 
thought  it  was  strong,  characteristic,  and 
real,  and  accepted  it  literally.  He  rose. 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  143 

"  Ef  you  allow  you  can't  stay,  why  I  '11  go 
and  get  the  horse.  I  reckon  he  ain't  bin  put 
up  yet." 

"  Do,  please." 

He  grimly  resumed  his  coat  and  hat  and 
disappeared  through  the  passage  into  the 
kitchen,  whence,  a  moment  later,  Zuleika 
came  flying. 

"  Well,  what  has  happened  ?  "  she  said 
eagerly. 

"  It 's  all  right,"  said  the  woman  quickly, 
"  though  he  knows  nothing  yet.  But  I  've 
got  things  fixed  generally,  so  that  he  '11  be 
quite  ready  to  have  it  broken  to  him  by  this 
time  to-morrow.  But  don't  you  say  any- 
thing till  I  've  seen  Jack  and  you  hear  from 
him.  Remember." 

She  spoke  rapidly  ;  her  cheeks  were  quite 
glowing  from  some  sudden  energy  ;  so  were 
Zuleika's  with  the  excitement  of  curiosity. 
Presently  the  sound  of  sleigh-bells  again 
filled  the  room.  It  was  Hays  leading  the 
horse  and  sleigh  to  the  door,  beneath  a  sky 
now  starlit  and  crisp  under  a  northeast 
wind.  The  fair  stranger  cast  a  significant 
glance  at  Zuleika,  and  whispered  hurriedly, 
"  You  know  he  must  not  come  with  me. 
You  must  keep  him  here." 


144  A  NIGHT  AT  "  HA  TS." 

She  ran  to  the  door  muffled  and  hooded, 
leaped  into  the  sleigh,  and  gathered  up  the 
reins. 

"But  you  cannot  go  alone,"  said  Hays, 
with  awkward  courtesy.  "  I  was  kalkila- 
tin'  "— . 

"  You  're  too  tired  to  go  out  again,  dad," 
broke  in  Zuleika's  voice  quickly.  "  You 
ain't  fit ;  you  're  all  gray  and  krinkly  now, 
like  as  when  you  had  one  of  your  last  spells. 
She  '11  send  the  sleigh  back  to-morrow." 

"  I  can  find  my  way,"  said  the  lady 
briskly ;  "  there  's  only  one  turn  off,  I  be- 
lieve, and  that  "  — 

"  Leads  to  the  stage  station  three  miles 
west.  You  need  n't  be  afraid  of  gettin'  off 
on  that,  for  you  '11  likely  see  the  down  stage 
crossin'  your  road  ez  soon  ez  you  get  clear 
of  the  ranch." 

"  Good-night,"  said  the  lady.  An  arc  of 
white  spray  sprang  before  the  forward  run- 
ner, and  the  sleigh  vanished  in  the  road. 

Father  and  daughter  returned  to  the  of- 
fice. 

"  You  did  n't  get  to  know  her,  dad,  did 
ye  ?  "  queried  Zuleika. 

"  No,"  responded  Hays  gravely,  "  except 
to  see  she  wasn't  no  backwoods  or  moun- 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  145 

taineering  sort.  Now,  there's  the  kind  of 
woman,  Zuly,  as  knows  her  own  mind  and 
yours  too;  that  a  man  like  your  brother 
Jack  oughter  pick  out  when  he  marries." 

Zuleika's  face  beamed  behind  her  father. 
"  You  ain't  goin'  to  sit  up  any  longer,  dad  ?  " 
she  said,  as  she  noticed  him  resume  his  seat 
by  the  fire.  "  It 's  gettin'  late,  and  you  look 
mighty  tuckered  out  with  your  night's 
work." 

"Do  you  know  what  she  said,  Zuly?" 
returned  her  father,  after  a  pause,  which 
turned  out  to  have  been  a  long,  silent  laugh. 

"No." 

"She  said,"  he  repeated  slowly,  "that 
she  reckoned  I  came  back  here  to-night  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  her  acquaintance ! "  He 
brought  his  two  hands  heavily  down  upon 
his  knees,  rubbing  them  down  deliberately 
towards  his  ankles,  and  leaning  forward  with 
his  face  to  the  fire  and  a  long-sustained 
smile  of  complete  though  tardy  apprecia- 
tion. 

He  was  still  in  this  attitude  when  Zuleika 
left  him.  The  wind  crooned  over  him  confi- 
dentially, but  he  still  sat  there,  given  up  ap- 
parently to  some  posthumous  enjoyment  of 
his  visitor's  departing  witticism. 


146  A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS." 

It  was  scarcely  daylight  when  Zuleika, 
while  dressing,  heard  a  quick  tapping  upon 
her  shutter.  She  opened  it  to  the  scared 
and  bewildered  face  of  her  brother. 

"  What  happened  with  her  and  father  last 
night  ?  "  he  said  hoarsely. 

"  Nothing  —  why  ?  " 

"  Read  that.  It  was  brought  to  me  half 
an  hour  ago  by  a  man  in  dad's  sleigh,  from 
the  stage  station." 

He  handed  her  a  crumpled  note  with 
trembling  fingers.  She  took  it  and  read  :  — 

"  The  game 's  up  and  I  'm  out  of  it !  Take 
my  advice  and  clear  out  of  it  too,  until  you 
can  come  back  in  better  shape.  Don't  be 
such  a  fool  as  to  try  and  follow  me.  Your 
father  is  n't  one,  and  that 's  where  you  've 
slipped  up." 

"  He  shall  pay  for  it,  whatever  he 's 
done,"  said  her  brother  with  an  access  of 
wild  passion.  "  Where  is  he  ?" 

"  Why,  Jack,  you  would  n't  dare  to  see 
him  now  ?  " 

"Wouldn't  I?"  He  turned  and  ran, 
convulsed  with  passion,  before  the  windows 
towards  the  front  of  the  house.  Zuleika 
slipped  out  of  her  bedroom  %nd  ran  to  her 
father's  room.  He  was  not  there.  Already 


A  NIGHT  AT  "HAYS."  147 

she  could  hear  her  brother  hammering  fran- 
tically against  the  locked  front  door. 

The  door  of  the  office  was  partly  open. 
Her  father  was  still  there.  Asleep  ?  Yes, 
for  he  had  apparently  sunk  forward  before 
the  cold  hearth.  But  the  hands  that  he  had 
always  been  trying  to  warm  were  colder  than 
the  hearth  or  ashes,  and  he  himself  never 
again  spoke  nor  stirred. 

It  was  deemed  providential  by  the  neigh- 
bors that  his  youngest  and  favorite  son, 
alarmed  by  news  of  his  father's  failing 
health,  had  arrived  from  the  Atlantic  States 
just  at  the  last  moment.  But  it  was  thought 
singular  that  after  the  division  of  the  prop- 
erty he  entirely  abandoned  the  Ranch,  and 
that  even  pending  the  division  his  beautiful 
but  fastidious  Eastern  bride  declined  to  visit 
it  with  her  husband. 


JOHNSON'S   "OLD  WOMAN.' 


IT  was  growing  dark,  and  the  Sonora 
trail  was  becoming  more  indistinct  before 
me  at  every  step.  The  difficulty  had  in- 
creased over  the  grassy  slope,  where  the 
overflow  from  some  smaller  watercourse 
above  had  worn  a  number  of  diverging  gul- 
lies so  like  the  trail  as  to  be  un distinguish- 
able from  it.  Unable  to  determine  which 
was  the  right  one,  I  threw  the  reins  over  the 
mule's  neck  and  resolved  to  trust  to  that 
superior  animal's  sagacity,  of  which  I  had 
heard  so  much.  But  I  had  not  taken  into 
account  the  equally  well-known  weaknesses  of 
sex  and  species,  and  Chu  Chu  had  already 
shown  uncontrollable  signs  of  wanting  her 
own  way.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
feeling  the  relaxed  bridle,  she  laid  down  and 
rolled  over.  « 

In  this  perplexity  the  sound  of  horse's 
hoofs  ringing  out  of  the  rocky  canon  beyond 
was  a  relief,  even  if  momentarily  embarrass- 


JOHNSON'S  "OLD. WOMAN."  149 

ing.  An  instant  afterwards  a  horse  and 
rider  appeared  cantering  round  the  hill  on 
what  was  evidently  the  lost  trail,  and  pulled 
up  as  I  succeeded  in  forcing  Chu  Chu  to  her 
legs  again. 

"  Is  that  the  trail  from  Sonora  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes ;  "  but  with  a  critical  glance  at  the 
mule,  "I  reckon  you  ain't  going  thar  to- 
night." 

"Why  not?" 

"  It 's  a  matter  of  eighteen  miles,  and 
most  of  it  a  blind  trail  through  the  woods 
after  you  take  the  valley." 

"  Is  it  worse  than  this  ?  " 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  this  trail  ?  Ye 
ain't  expecting  a  racecourse  or  a  shell  road 
over  the  foothills  —  are  ye  ?  " 

"No.  Is  there  any  hotel  where  I  can 
stop?" 

"  Nary." 

"  Nor  any  house  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Thank  you.     Good-night." 

He  had  already  passed  on,  when  he  halted 
again  and  turned  in  his  saddle.  "  Look  yer. 
Just  a  spell  over  yon  canon  y.e  '11  find  a  patch 
o'  buckeyes  ;  turn  to -the  right  and  ye  'll  see 
a  trail.  That  '11  take  ye  to  a  shanty.  You 
ask  if  it 's  Johnson's." 


150  JOHNSON'S.  "OLD   WOMAN" 

"Who's  Johnson?" 

"  I  am.  You  ain't  lookin'  for  Vanderbilt 
or  God  Almighty  up  here,  are  you  ?  Well, 
then,  you  hark  to  me,  will  you  ?  You  say 
to  my  old  woman  to  give  you  supper  and  a 
shakedown  somewhar  to-night.  Say  1  sent 
you.  So  long." 

He  was  gone  before  I  could  accept  or 
decline.  An  extraordinary  noise  proceeded 
from  Chu  Chu,  not  unlike  a  suppressed 
chuckle.  I  looked  sharply  at  her ;  she 
coughed  affectedly,  and,  with  her  head  and 
neck  stretched  to  their  greatest  length,  ap- 
peared to  contemplate  her  neat  little  off  fore 
shoe  with  admiring  abstraction.  But  as 
soon  as  I  had  mounted  she  set  off  abruptly, 
crossed  the  rocky  canon,  apparently  sighted 
the  patch  of  buckeyes  of  her  own  volition, 
and  without  the  slightest  hesitation  found 
the  trail  to  the  right,  and  in  half  an  hour 
stood  before  the  shanty. 

It  was  a  log  cabin  with  an  additional 
"  lean-to  "  of  the  same  material,  roofed  with 
bark,  and  on  the  other  side  a  larger  and 
more  ambitious  "  extension  "  built  of  rough, 
unplaned,  and  unpainted  redwood  boards, 
lightly  shingled.  The  "  lean-to  "  was  evi- 
dently used  as  a  kitchen,  and  the  central 


JOHNSON'S   "OLD  WOMAN."  151 

cabin  as  a  living-room.  The  barking  of  a 
dog  as  I  approached  called  four  children  of 
different  sizes  to  the  open  door,  where  al- 
ready an  enterprising  baby  was  feebly  essay- 
ing to  crawl  over  a  bar  of  wood  laid  across 
the  threshold  to  restrain  it. 

"  Is  this  Johnson's  house  ?  " 

My  remark  was  really  addressed  to  the 
eldest,  a  boy  of  apparently  nine  or  ten,  but 
I  felt  that  my  attention  was  unduly  fasci- 
nated by  the  baby,  who  at  that  moment  had 
toppled  over  the  bar,  and  was  calmly  eyeing 
me  upside  down,  while  silently  and  heroi- 
cally suffocating  in  its  petticoats.  The  boy 
disappeared  without  replying,  but  presently 
returned  with  a  taller  girl  of  fourteen  or 
fifteen.  I  was  struck  with  the  way  that,  as 
she  reached  the  door,  she  passed  her  hands 
rapidly  over  the  heads  of  the  others  as  if 
counting  them,  picked  up  the  baby,  reversed 
it,  shook  out  its  clothes,  and  returned  it  to 
the  inside,  without  even  looking  at  it.  The 
act  was  evidently  automatic  and  habitual. 

I  repeated  my  question  timidly. 

Yes,  it  was  Johnson's,  but  he  had  just 
gone  to  King's  Mills.  I  replied,  hurriedly, 
that  I  knew  it,  —  that  I  had  met  him  be- 
yond the  canon.  As  I  had  lost  my  way  and 


152  JOHNSON'S  "OLD  WOMAN." 

could  n't  get  to  Sonora  to-night,  lie  had  been 
good  enough  to  say  that  I  might  stay  there 
until  morning.  My  voice  was  slightly  raised 
for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Johnson's  "old  wo- 
man," who,  I  had  no  doubt,  was  inspecting 
me  furtively  from  some  corner. 

The  girl  drew  the  children  away,  except 
the  boy.  To  him  she  said  simply,  "  Show 
the  stranger  whar  to  stake  out  his  mule, 
'Dolphus,"  and  disappeared  in  the  "exten- 
sion "  without  another  word.  I  followed  my 
little  guide,  who  was  perhaps  more  actively 
curious,  but  equally  unresponsive.  To  my 
various  questions  he  simply  returned  a  smile 
of  exasperating  vacuity.  But  he  never  took 
his  eager  eyes  from  me,  and  I  was  satisfied 
that  not  a  detail  of  my  appearance  escaped 
him.  Leading  the  way  behind  the  house  to 
a  little  wood,  whose  only  "clearing"  had 
been  effected  by  decay  or  storm,  he  stood 
silently  apart  while  I  picketed  Chu  Chu, 
neither  offering  to  assist  me  nor  opposing 
any  interruption  to  my  survey  of  the  local- 
ity. There  was  no  trace  of  human  cultiva- 
tion in  the  surroundings  of  the  cabin ;  the 
wilderness  still  trod  sharply  on  the  heels 
of  the  pioneer's  fresh  footprints,  and  even 
seemed  to  obliterate  them.  For  a  few  yards 


JOHNSON'S   "OLD   WOMAN."  158 

around  the  actual  dwelling  there  was  an  un- 
savory fringe  of  civilization  in  the  shape  of 
cast-off  clothes,  empty  bottles,  and  tin  cans, 
and  the  adjacent  thorn  and  elder  bushes 
blossomed  un wholesomely  with  bits  of  torn 
white  paper  and  bleaching  dish-cloths.  This 
hideous  circle  never  widened  ;  Nature  always 
appeared  to  roll  back  the  intruding  debris  ; 
no  bird  nor  beast  carried  it  away ;  no  ani- 
mal ever  forced  the  uncleanly  barrier  ;  civil- 
ization remained  grimly  trenched  in  its  own 
exuvia.  The  old  terrifying  girdle  of  fire 
around  the  hunter's  camp  was  not  more 
deterring  to  curious  night  prowlers  than  this 
coarse  and  accidental  outwork. 

When  I  regained  the  cabin  I  found  it 
empty,  the  doors  of  the  lean-to  and  extension 
closed,  but  there  was  a  stool  set  before  a  rude 
table,  upon  which  smoked  a  tin  cup  of  coffee, 
a  tin  dish  of  hot  saleratus  biscuit,  and  a  plate 
of  fried  beef.  There  was  something  odd  and 
depressing  in  this  silent  exclusion  of  my  pres- 
ence. Had  Johnson's  "  old  woman  "  from 
some  dark  post  of  observation  taken  a  dislike 
to  my  appearance,  or  was  this  churlish  with- 
drawal a  peculiarity  of  Sierran  hospitality  ? 
Or  was  Mrs.  Johnson  young  and  pretty,  and 
hidden  under  the  restricting  ban  of  John- 


154  JOHNSON'S   "OLD   WOMAN." 

son's  jealousy,  or  was  she  a  deformed  crip- 
ple, or  even  a  bedridden  crone  ?  From  the 
extension  at  times  came  a  murmur  of  voices, 
but  never  the  accents  of  adult  womanhood. 
The  gathering  darkness,  relieved  only  by  a 
dull  glow  from  the  smouldering  logs  in  the 
adobe  chimney,  added  to  my  loneliness.  In 
the  circumstances  I  knew  I  ought  to  have 
put  aside  the  repast  and  given  myself  up  to 
gloomy  and  pessimistic  reflection  ;  but  Na- 
ture is  often  inconsistent,  and  in  that  keen 
mountain  air,  I  grieve  to  say,  my  physical 
and  moral  condition  was  not  in  that  perfect 
accord  always  indicated  by  romancers.  I 
had  an  appetite  and  I  gratified  it ;  dyspepsia 
and  ethical  reflections  might  come  later.  I 
ate  the  saleratus  biscuit  cheerfully,  and  was 
meditatively  finishing  my  coffee  when  a 
gurgling  sound  from  the  rafters  above  at- 
tracted my  attention.  I  looked  up ;  under 
the  overhang  of  the  bark  roof  three  pairs  of 
round  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me.  They  be- 
longed to  the  children  I  had  previously  seen, 
who,  in  the  attitude  of  Raphael's  cherubs, 
had  evidently  been  deeply  interested  spec- 
tators of  my  repast.  As  our  eyes  met  an 
inarticulate  giggle  escaped  the  lips  of  the 
youngest. 


JOHNSON'S  "OLD  WOMAN."  155 

I  never  could  understand  why  the  shy 
amusement  of  children  over  their  elders  is 
not  accepted  as  philosophically  by  its  object 
as  when  it  proceeds  from  an  equal.  We 
fondly  believe  that  when  Jones  or  Brown 
laughs  at  us  it  is  from  malice,  ignorance, 
or  a  desire  to  show  his  superiority,  but  there 
is  always  a  haunting  suspicion  in  our  minds 
that  these  little  critics  really  see  something 
in  us  to  laugh  at.  I,  however,  smiled  affably 
in  return,  ignoring  any  possible  grotesque- 
ness  in  my  manner  of  eating  in  private. 

"  Come  here,  Johnny,"  I  said  blandly. 

The  two  elder  ones,  a  girl  and  a  boy,  dis- 
appeared instantly,  as  if  the  crowning  joke 
of  this  remark  was  too  much  for  them. 
From  a  scraping  and  kicking  against  the  log 
wall  I  judged  that  they  had  quickly  dropped 
to  the  ground  outside.  The  younger  one, 
the  giggler,  remained  fascinated,  but  ready 
to  fly  at  a  moment's  warning. 

"  Come  here,  Johnny,  boy,"  I  repeated 
,  gently.  "  I  want  you  to  go  to  your  mother, 
please,  and  tell  her  "  — 

But  here  the  child,  who  had  been  working 
its  face  convulsively,  suddenly  uttered  a  lu- 
gubrious howl  and  disappeared  also.  I  ran 
to  the  front  door  and  looked  out  in  time  to 


156  JOHNSON'S  "OLD   WOMAN." 

see  the  tallest  girl,  who  had  received  me, 
walking  away  with  it  under  her  arm,  pushing 
the  boy  ahead  of  her  and  looking  back  over 
her  shoulder,  not  unlike  a  youthful  she-bear 
conducting  her  cubs  from  danger.  She  dis- 
appeared at  the  end  of  the  extension,  where 
there  was  evidently  another  door. 

It  was  very  extraordinary.  It  was  not 
strange  that  I  turned  back  to  the  cabin  with 
a  chagrin  and  mortification  which  for  a  mo- 
ment made  me  entertain  the  wild  idea  of 
saddling  Chu  Chu,  and  shaking  the  dust  of 
that  taciturn  house  from  my  feet.  But  the 
ridiculousness  of  such  an  act,  to  say  nothing 
of  its  ingratitude,  as  quickly  presented  itself 
to  me.  Johnson  had  offered  me  only  food 
and  shelter ;  I  could  have  claimed  no  more 
from  the  inn  I  had  asked  him  to  direct  me 
to.  I  did  not  reenter  the  house,  but,  light- 
ing my  last  cigar,  began  to  walk  gloomily 
up  and  down  the  trail.  With  the  outcoming 
of  the  stars  it  had  grown  lighter ;  through 
a  wind  opening  in  the  trees  I  could  see  the 
heavy  bulk  of  the  opposite  mountain,  and 
beyond  it  a  superior  crest  defined  by  a  red 
line  of  forest  fire,  which,  however,  cast  no 
reflection  on  the  surrounding  earth  or  sky. 
Faint  woodland  currents  of  air,  still  warm 


JOHNSOWS  "  OLD  WOMAN"  157 

from  the  afternoon  sun,  stirred  the  leaves 
around  me  with  long-drawn  aromatic  breaths. 
But  these  in  time  gave  way  to  the  steady 
Sierran  night  wind  sweeping  down  from  the 
higher  summits,  and  rocking  the  tops  of  the 
tallest  pines,  yet  leaving  the  tranquillity  of 
the  dark  lower  aisles  unshaken.  It  was  very 
quiet ;  there  was  no  cry  nor  call  of  beast  or 
bird  in  the  darkness  ;  the  long  rustle  of  the 
tree-tops  sounded  as  faint  as  the  far-off  wash 
of  distant  seas.  Nor  did  the  resemblance 
cease  there ;  the  close-set  files  of  the  pines 
and  cedars,  stretching  in  illimitable  ranks  to 
the  horizon,  were  filled  with  the  immeasur- 
able loneliness  of  an  ocean  shore.  In  this 
vast  silence  I  began  to  think  I  understood 
the  taciturnity  of  the  dwellers  in  the  solitary 
cabin. 

When  I  returned,  however,  I  was  sur- 
prised to  find  the  tallest  girl  standing  by  the 
door.  As  I  approached  she  retreated  before 
me,  and  pointing  to  the  corner  where  a  com- 
mon cot  bed  had  been  evidently  just  put  up, 
said,  "  Ye  can  turn  in  thar,  only  ye  '11  have 
to  rouse  out  early  when  'Dolphus  does  the 
chores,"  and  was  turning  towards  the  exten- 
sion again,  when  I  stopped  her  almost  ap- 
pealingly. 


158  JOHNSON'S   "OLD   WOMAN" 

"  One  moment,  please.  Can  I  see  your 
mother  ?  " 

She  stopped  and  looked  at  me  with  a  sin- 
gular expression.  Then  she  said  sharply :  — 

"  You  know,  fust  rate,  she 's  dead." 

She  was  turning  away  again,  but  I  think 
she  must  have  seen  my  concern  in  my  face, 
for  she  hesitated.  "But,"  I  said  quickly, 
"  I  certainly  understood  your  father,  that  is, 
Mr.  Johnson,"  I  added,  interrogatively,  "to 
say  that  —  that  I  was  to  speak  to  "  —  I 
did  n't  like  to  repeat  the  exact  phrase  —  "  his 
wife." 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  was  playin'  ye 
for,"  she  said  shortly.  "  Mar  has  been  dead 
mor  'n  a  year." 

"  But,"  I  persisted,  "  is  there  no  grown- 
up woman  here  ?  " 

"  No." 

"Then  who  takes  care  of  you  and  the 
children?" 

"I  do." 

"  Yourself  and  your  father  —  eh  ?  " 

"  Dad  ain't  here  two  days  running,  and 
then  on'y  to  sleep." 

"  And  you  take  the  entire  charge  of  the 
house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  the  log  tallies." 


JOHNSON'S   "  OLD   WOMAN."  159 

"  The  log  tallies  ?  " 

"Yes;  keep  count  and  measure  the  logs 
that  go  by  the  slide." 

It  flashed  upon  me  that  I  had  passed  the 
slide  or  declivity  on  the  hillside,  where  logs 
were  slipped  down  into  the  valley,  and  I  in- 
ferred that  Johnson's  business  was  cutting 
timber  for  the  mill. 

"  But  you  're  rather  young  for  all  this 
work,"  I  suggested. 

"I  'm  goin'  on  sixteen,"  she  said  gravely. 

Indeed,  for  the  matter  of  that,  she  might 
have  been  any  age.  Her  face,  on  which  sun- 
burn took  the  place  of  complexion,  was  al- 
ready hard  and  set.  But  on  a  nearer  view 
I  was  struck  with  the  fact  that  her  eyes, 
which  were  not  large,  were  almost  indistin- 
guishable from  the  presence  of  the  most  sin- 
gular eyelashes  I  had  ever  seen.  Intensely 
black,  intensely  thick,  and  even  tangled  in 
their  profusion,  they  bristled  rather  than 
fringed  her  eyelids,  obliterating  everything 
but  the  shining  black  pupils  beneath,  which 
were  like  certain  lustrous  hairy  mountain 
berries.  It  was  this  woodland  suggestion 
that  seemed  to  uncannily  connect  her  with 
the  locality.  I  went  on  playfully  :  — 

"That's   not   very   old  —  but  tell  me  — 


160  JOHNSON'S   "  OLD 

does  your  father,  or   did  your  father,  ever 
speak  of  you  as  his  '  old  woman  ?  ' 

She  nodded.  "  Then  you  thought  I  was 
mar  ?  "  she  said,  smiling. 

It  was  such  a  relief  to  see  her  worn  face 
relax  its  expression  of  pathetic  gravity  —  al- 
though this  operation  quite  buried  her  eyes 
in  their  black  thickest  hedge  again  —  that  I 
continued  cheerfully :  "  It  was  n't  much  of  a 
mistake,  considering  all  you  do  for  the  house 
and  family." 

"  Then  you  did  n't  tell  Billy  '  to  go  and  be 
dead  in  the  ground  with  mar,'  as  he  'lows 
you  did  ?  "  she  said  half  suspiciously,  yet 
trembling  on  the  edge  of  a  smile. 

No,  I  had  not,  but  I  admitted  that  my 
asking  him  to  go  to  his  mother  might  have 
been  open  to  this  dismal  construction  by  a 
sensitive  infant  mind.  She  seemed  mollified, 
and  again  turned  to  go. 

"  Good-night,  Miss  —  you  know  your  fa- 
ther did  n't  tell  me  your  real  name,"  I  said. 

"  Karline !  " 

"  Good-night,  Miss  Karline." 

I  held  out  my  hand. 

She  looked  at  it  and  then  at  me  through 
her  intricate  eyelashes.  Then  she  struck  it 
aside  briskly,  but  not  unkindly,  said  "  Quit 


JOHNSON'S  "OLD  WOMAN."  161 

foolin',  now,"  as  she  might  have  said  to  one 
of  the  children,  and  disappeared  through  the 
inner  door.  Not  knowing  whether  to  be 
amused  or  indignant,  I  remained  silent  a 
moment.  Then  I  took  a  turn  outside  in  the 
increasing  darkness,  listened  to  the  now  hur- 
rying wind  over  the  tree-tops,  reentered  the 
cabin,  closed  the  door,  and  went  to  bed. 

But  not  to  sleep.  Perhaps  the  responsi- 
bility towards  these  solitary  children,  which 
Johnson  had  so  lightly  shaken  off,  devolved 
upon  me  as  I  lay  there,  for  I  found  my- 
self imagining  a  dozen  emergencies  of  their 
unprotected  state,  with  which  the  elder  girl 
could  scarcely  grapple.  There  was  little  to 
fear  from  depredatory  man  or  beast  —  des- 
peradoes of  the  mountain  trail  never  stooped 
to  ignoble  burglary,  bear  or  panther  seldom 
approached  a  cabin  —  but  there  was  the 
chance  of  sudden  illness,  fire,  the  accidents 
that  beset  childhood,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
narrowing  moral  and  mental  effect  of  their 
isolation  at  that  tender  age.  It  was  scanda- 
lous in  Johnson  to  leave  them  alone. 

In  the  silence  I  found  I  could  hear  quite 
distinctly  the  sound  of  their  voices  in  the 
extension,  and  it  was  evident  that  Caroline 
was  putting  them  to  bed.  Suddenly  a  voice 


162  JOHNSON'S  "OLD  WOMAN." 

was  uplifted  —  her  own  !  She  began  to  sing 
and  the  others  to  join  her.  It  was  the  repe- 
tition of  a  single  verse  of  a  well-known  lugu- 
brious negro  melody.  UA11  the  world  am 
sad  and  dreary,"  wailed  Caroline,  in  a  high 
head-note,  "  everywhere  I  roam."  "  Oh,  dark- 
ieth,"  lisped  the  younger  girl  in  response, 
"  how  my  heart  growth  weary,  far  from  the 
old  folkth  at  h-o-o-me."  This  was  repeated 
two  or  three  times  before  the  others  seemed 
to  get  the  full  swing  of  it,  and  then  the  lines 
rose  and  fell  sadly  and  monotonously  in  the 
darkness.  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  at  once 
got  the  impression  that  those  motherless 
little  creatures  were  under  a  vague  belief 
that  their  performance  was  devotional,  and 
was  really  filling  the  place  of  an  evening 
hymn.  A  brief  and  indistinct  kind  of  reci- 
tation, followed  by  a  dead  silence,  broken 
only  by  the  slow  creaking  of  new  timber,  as 
if  the  house  were  stretching  itself  to  sleep 
too,  confirmed  my  impression.  Then  all  be- 
came quiet  again. 

But  I  was  more  wide  awake  than  before. 
Finally  I  rose,  dressed  myself,  and  dragging 
my  stool  to  the  fire,  took  a  book  from  my 
knapsack,  and  by  the  light  of  a  guttering 
candle,  which  I  discovered  in  a  bottle  in  the 


JOHNSON'S  "OLD   WOMAN."  163 

corner  of  the  hearth,  began  to  read.  Pres- 
ently I  fell  into  a  doze.  How  long  I  slept 
I  could  not  tell,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  a 
dreamy  consciousness  of  a  dog  barking  at 
last  forced  itself  upon  me  so  strongly  that 
I  awoke.  The  barking  appeared  to  come 
from  behind  the  cabin  in  the  direction  of  the 
clearing  where  I  had  tethered  Chu  Chu.  I 
opened  the  door  hurriedly,  ran  round  the 
cabin  towards  the  hollow,  and  was  almost  at 
once  met  by  the  bulk  of  the  frightened  Chu 
Chu,  plunging  out  of  the  darkness  towards 
me,  kept  only  in  check  by  her  reata  in  the 
hand  of  a  blanketed  shape  slowly  advancing 
with  a  gun  over  its  shoulder  out  of  the  hol- 
low. Before  I  had  time  to  recover  from  my 
astonishment  I  was  thrown  into  greater  con- 
fusion by  recognizing  the  shape  as  none  other 
than  Caroline ! 

Without  the  least  embarrassment  or  even 
self  -  consciousness  of  her  appearance,  she 
tossed  the  end  of  the  reata  to  me  with  the 
curtest  explanation  as  she  passed  by.  Some 
prowling  bear  or  catamount  had  frightened 
the  mule.  I  had  better  tether  it  before  the 
cabin  away  from  the  wind. 

"  But  I  thought  wild  beasts  never  came  so 
near,"  I  said  quickly. 


164  JOHNSON'S  "OLD   WOMAN.1' 

"  Mule  meat 's  mighty  temptin',"  said  the 
girl  sententiously  and  passed  on.  I  wanted 
to  thank  her  ;  I  wanted  to  say  how  sorry  I 
was  that  she  had  been  disturbed ;  I  wanted 
to  compliment  her  on  her  quiet  midnight 
courage,  and  yet  warn  her  against  reckless- 
ness ;  I  wanted  to  know  whether  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  such  alarms ;  and  if  the 
gun  she  carried  was  really  a  necessity.  But 
I  could  only  respect  her  reticence,  and  I  was 
turning  away  when  I  was  struck  by  a  more 
inexplicable  spectacle.  As  she  neared  the 
end  of  the  extension  I  distinctly  saw  the  tall 
figure  of  a  man,  moving  with  a  certain  diffi- 
dence and  hesitation  that  did  not,  however, 
suggest  any  intention  of  concealment,  among 
the  trees ;  the  girl  apparently  saw  him  at 
the  same  moment  and  slightly  slackened  her 
pace.  Not  more  than  a  dozen  feet  separated 
them.  He  said  something  that  was  inaudi- 
ble to  my  ears,  —  but  whether  from  his  hesi- 
tation or  the  distance  I  could  not  determine. 
There  was  no  such  uncertainty  in  her  reply, 
however,  which  was  given  in  her  usual  curt 
fashion  :  "  All  right.  You  can  trapse  along 
home  now  and  turn  in." 

She  turned  the  corner  of  the  extension 
and  disappeared.  The  tall  figure  of  the 


JOHNSON'S  "OLD   WOMAN."  165 

man  wavered  hesitatingly  for  a  moment,  and 
then  vanished  also.  But  I  was  too  much 
excited  by  curiosity  to  accept  this  unsatisfac- 
tory conclusion,  and,  hastily  picketing  Chu 
Chu  a  few  rods  from  the  front  door,  I  ran 
after  him,  with  an  instinctive  feeling  that 
he  had  not  gone  far.  I  was  right.  A  few 
paces  distant  he  had  halted  in  the  same  du- 
bious, lingering  way.  "  Hallo  !  "  I  said. 

He  turned  towards  me  in  the  like  awk- 
ward fashion,  but  with  neither  astonishment 
nor  concern. 

"  Come  up  and  take  a  drink  with  me  be- 
fore you  go,"  I  said,  "  if  you  're  riot  in  a 
hurry.  I  'm  alone  here,  and  since  I  have 
turned  out  I  don't  see  why  we  might  n't  have 
a  smoke  and  a  talk  together." 

"Idursn't." 

I  looked  up  at  the  six  feet  of  strength 
before  me  and  repeated  wonderingly,  "  Dare 
not  ?  " 

"  She  would  n't  like  it."  He  made  a 
movement  with  his  right  shoulder  towards 
the  extension. 

"Who?" 

"  Miss  Ear  line." 

"  Nonsense !  "  I  said.  "  She  is  n't  in  the 
cabin,  —  you  won't  see  her.  Come  along." 


166  JOHNSON'S   "OLD   WOMAN:1 

He  hesitated,  although  from  what  I  could 
discern  of  his  bearded  face  it  was  weakly 
smiling. 

"  Come." 

He  obeyed,  following  me  not  unlike  Chu 
Chu,  I  fancied,  with  the  same  sense  of  supe- 
rior size  and  strength  and  a  slight  whitening 
of  the  eye,  as  if  ready  to  shy  at  any  moment. 
At  the  door  he  "  backed."  Then  he  entered 
sideways.  I  noticed  that  he  cleared  the 
doorway  at  the  top  and  the  sides  only  by  a 
hair's  breadth. 

By  the  light  of  the  fire  I  could  see  that, 
in  spite  of  his  full  first  growth  of  beard,  he 
was  young,  —  even  younger  than  myself,  — 
and  that  he  was  by  no  means  bad-looking. 
As  he  still  showed  signs  of  retreating  at  any 
moment,  I  took  my  flask  and  tobacco  from 
my  saddle-bags,  handed  them  to  him,  pointed 
to  the  stool,  and  sat  down  myself  upon  the 
bed. 

"  You  live  near  here?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  a  little  abstractedly,  as  if 
listening  for  some  interruption, "  at  Ten  Mile 
Crossing." 

"Why,  that's  two  miles  away." 

"  I  reckon." 

"  Then  you  don't  live  here  —  on  the  clear- 
ing?" 


JOHNSON'S  "OLD  WOMAN."  167 

"No.     I  b'long  to  the  mill  at  4  Ten  Mile.'  " 
"  You  were  on  your  way  home  ?  " 
"  No,"  he  hesitated,  looking  at  his  pipe  ; 
"  I  kinder  meander  round  here  at  this  time, 
when  Johnson  's  away,  to  see  if  everything 's 
goin'  straight." 

"  I  see  —  you  're  a  friend  of  the  family." 
"  'Deed  no !  "  He  stopped,  laughed,  looked 
confused,  and  added,  apparently  to  his 
pipe,  u  That  is,  a  sorter  friend.  Not  much. 
She  "  —  he  lowered  his  voice  as  if  that  po- 
tential personality  filled  the  whole  cabin  — 
"  would  n't  like  it." 

"  Then  at  night,  when  Johnson  's  away, 
you  do  sentry  duty  round  the  house?" 

"Yes,  'sentry  dooty,'  that's  it,"— he 
seemed  impressed  with  the  suggestion  — 
"  that 's  it !  Sentry  dooty.  You  've  struck 
it,  pardner." 

"  And  how  often  is  Johnson  away  ?  " 
"  'Bout  two  or  three  times  a  week  on  an 
average." 

"  But  Miss  Caroline  appears  to  be  able  to 
take  care  of  herself.  She  has  no  fear." 

"  Fear  !  Fear  was  n't  hangin'  round  when 
she  was  born !  "  He  paused.  "  No,  sir. 
Did  ye  ever  look  into  them  eyes  ?  " 

I  had  n't,  on  account  of  the  lashes.  But 
I  did  n't  care  to  say  this,  and  only  nodded. 


168  JOHNSON'S   "OLD   WOMAN" 

"There  ain't  the  created  thing  livin'  or 
dead,  that  she  can't  stand  straight  up  to  and 
look  at." 

I  wondered  if  he  had  fancied  she  experi- 
enced any  difficulty  in  standing  up  before 
that  innocently  good-humored  face,  but  I 
could  not  resist  saying  :  — 

"  Then  I  don't  see  the  use  of  your  walking 
four  miles  to  look  after  her." 

I  was  sorry  for  it  the  next  minute,  for  he 
seemed  to  have  awkwardly  broken  his  pipe, 
and  had  to  bend  down  for  a  long  time  af- 
terwards to  laboriously  pick  up  the  smallest 
fragments  of  it.  At  last  he  said,  cautiously : 

"Ye  noticed  them  bits  o'  flannin'  round 
the  chillern's  throats?" 

I  remembered  that  I  had,  but  was  uncer- 
tain whether  it  was  intended  as  a  preventive 
of  cold  or  a  child  's  idea  of  decoration.  I 
nodded. 

"  That 's  their  trouble.  One  night,  when 
old  Johnson  had  been  off  for  three  days  to 
Coulterville,  I  was  prowling  round  here  and 
I  did  n't  git  to  see  no  one,  though  there  was 
a  light  burnin'  in  the  shanty  all  night.  The 
next  night  I  was  here  again,  —  the  same  light 
twinklin',  but  no  one  about.  I  reckoned 
that  was  mighty  queer,  and  I  jess  crep'  up  to 


JOHNSON'S  "OLD   WOMAN."  169 

the  house  an'  listened.  I  heard  suthin'  like 
a  little  cough  oncet  in  a  while,  and  at  times 
suthin'  like  a  little  moan.  I  did  n't  durst  to 
sing  out  for  I  knew  she  would  n't  like  it,  but 
whistled  keerless  like,  to  let  the  chillern 
know  I  was  there.  But  it  didn  't  seem  to 
take.  I  was  jess  goin'  off,  when  —  darn  my 
skin !  —  if  I  did  n't  come  across  the  bucket 
of  water  I  'd  fetched  up  from  the  spring  that 
mornin\  standin'  there  full,  and  never  taken 
in !  When  I  saw  that  I  reckoned  I  'd  jess 
wade  in,  anyhow,  and  I  knocked.  Pooty 
soon  the  door  was  half  opened,  and  I  saw  her 
eyes  blazin'  at  me  like  them  coals.  Then  she 
'lowed  I  'd  better  '  git  up  and  git,'  and  shet 
the  door  to !  Then  I  'lowed  she  might  tell 
me  what  was  up  —  through  the  door.  Then 
she  said,  through  the  door,  as  how  the  chil- 
lern lay  all  sick  with  that  hoss-distemper, 
diphthery.  Then  she  'lowed  she  'd  use  a  doc- 
tor ef  I  'd  fetch  him.  Then  she  'lowed  again 
I  'd  better  take  the  baby  that  had  n't  ketched 
it  yet  along  with  me,  and  leave  it  where  it 
was  safe.  Then  she  passed  out  the  baby 
through  the  door  all  wrapped  up  in  a  blan- 
kit  like  a  papoose,  and  you  bet  I  made  tracks 
with  it.  I  knowed  thar  was  n  't  no  good  go- 
ing to  the  mill,  so  I  let  out  for  White's,  four 


170  JOHNSON'S   "OLD   WOMAN." 

miles  beyond,  whar  there  was  White's  old 
mother.  I  told  her  how  things  were  pointin', 
and  she  lent  me  a  hoss,  and  I  jess  rounded 
on  Doctor  Green  at  Mountain  Jim's,  and 
had  him  back  here  afore  sun-up !  And  then 
I  heard  she  wilted,  —  regularly  played  out, 
you  see,  —  for  she  had  it  all  along  wuss  than 
the  lot,  and  never  let  on  or  whimpered !  " 

"  It  was  well  you  persisted  in  seeing  her 
that  night,"  I  said,  watching  the  rapt  ex- 
pression of  his  face.  He  looked  up  quickly, 
became  conscious  of  my  scrutiny,  and  dropped 
his  eyes  again,  smiled  feebly,  and  drawing 
a  circle  in  the  ashes  with  the  broken  pipe- 
stem,  said : — 

"  But  she  did  n't  like  it,  though." 

I  suggested,  a  little  warmly,  that  if  she  al- 
lowed her  father  to  leave  her  alone  at  night 
with  delicate  children,  she  had  no  right  to 
choose  who  should  assist  her  in  an  emergency. 
It  struck  me  afterwards  that  this  was  not 
very  complimentary  to  him,  and  I  added 
hastily  that  I  wondered  if  she  expected  some 
young  lady  to  be  passing  along  the  trail  at 
midnight !  But  this  reminded  me  of  John- 
son's style  of  argument,  and  I  stopped. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  meekly,  "  and  ef  she 
did  n't  keer  enough  for  herself  and  her  bro- 


JOHNSON'S  "OLD  WOMAN."  171 

thers  and  sisters,  she  orter  remember  them 
Beazeley  chillern." 

"  Beazeley  children  ?  "  I  repeated  wonder- 
ingly. 

44  Yes ;  them  two  little  ones,  the  size  of 
Mirandy ;  they  're  Beazeley's." 

"  Who  is  Beazeley,  and  what  are  his  chil- 
dren doing  here  ?  " 

"  Beazeley  up  and  died  at  the  mill,  and 
she  bedevilled  her  father  to  let  her  take  his 
two  young  'uns  here." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  with  her 
other  work  she  's  taking  care  of  other  peo- 
ple's children  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  eddicatin'  them." 

"  Educating  them  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  teachin'  them  to  read  and  write 
and  do  sums.  One*  of  our  loggers  ketched 
her  at  it  when  she  was  keepin'  tally." 

We  were  both  silent  for  some  moments. 

44 1  suppose  you  know  Johnson  ?  "  I  said 
finally. 

44  Not  much." 

44  But  you  call  here  at  other  times  than 
when  you  're  helping  her  ?  " 

44  Never  been  in  the  house  before." 

He  looked  slowly  around  him  as  he  spoke, 
raising  his  eyes  to  the  bare  rafters  above, 


172  JOHNS OX1 S   "  OLD  WOMAN.11 

and  drawing  a  few  long  breaths,  as  if  he 
were  inhaling  the  aura  of  some  unseen  pres- 
ence. He  appeared  so  perfectly  gratified 
and  contented,  and  I  was  so  impressed  with 
this  humble  and  silent  absorption  of  the  sa- 
cred interior,  that  I  felt  vaguely  conscious 
that  any  interruption  of  it  was  a  profana- 
tion, and  I  sat  still,  gazing  at  the  dying  fire. 
Presently  he  arose,  stretched  out  his  hand, 
shook  mine  warmly,  said,  "  I  reckon  I  '11 
meander  along,"  took  another  long  breath, 
this  time  secretly,  as  if  conscious  of  my  eyes, 
and  then  slouched  sideways  out  of  the  house 
into  the  darkness  again,  where  he  seemed 
suddenly  to  attain  his  full  height,  and  so 
looming,  disappeared.  I  shut  the  door, 
went  to  bed,  and  slept  soundly. 

So  soundly  that  when  I  awoke  the  sun 
was  streaming  on  my  bed  from  the  open 
door.  On  the  table  before  me  my  break- 
fast was  already  laid.  When  I  had  dressed 
and  eaten  it,  struck  by  the  silence,  I  went 
to  the  door  and  looked  out.  'Dolphus  was 
holding  Chu  Chu  by  the  reata  a  few  paces 
from  the  cabin. 

"  Where  's  Caroline  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  pointed  to  the  woods  and  said: 
"  Over  yon  :  keeping  tally." 


JOHNSON'S  "OLD  WOMAN"  173 

"  Did  she  leave  any  message  ?  " 

"  Said  I  was  to  git  your  mule  for  you." 

"Anything  else?" 

"  Yes  ;  said  you  was  to  go." 

I  went,  but  not  until  I  had  scrawled  a 
few  words  of  thanks  on  a  leaf  of  my  note- 
book, which  I  wrapped  about  my  last  Span- 
ish dollar,  addressed  it  to  "  Miss  Johnson," 
and  laid  it  upon  the  table. 

It  was  more  than  a  year  later  that  in  the 
bar-room  of  the  Mariposa  Hotel  a  hand  was 
laid  upon  my  sleeve.  I  looked  up.  It  was 
Johnson. 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  Spanish  dol- 
lar. UI  reckoned,"  he  said,  cheerfully, 
"  I  'd  run  again  ye  somewhar  some  time. 
My  old  woman  told  me  to  give  ye  that  when 
I  did,  and  say  that  she  '  did  n't  keep  no 
hotel.'  But  she  allowed  she  'd  keep  the  let- 
ter, and  has  spelled  it  out  to  the  chillern." 

Here  was  the  opportunity  I  had  longed 
for  to  touch  Johnson's  pride  and  affection 
in  the  brave  but  unprotected  girl.  "  I  want 
to  talk  to  you  about  Miss  Johnson,"  I  said, 
eagerly. 

"  I  reckon  so,"  he  said,  with  an  exasper- 
ating smile.  "  Most  fellers  do.  But  she 


174  JOHNSON'S  "OLD   WOMAN." 

ain't  Miss  Johnson  no  more.  She  's  mar- 
ried." 

"Not  to  that  big  chap  over  from  Ten 
Mile  Mills  ?  "  I  said  breathlessly. 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  him"  said  John- 
son. "  Ye  did  n't  expect  her  to  marry  a 
nobleman,  did  ye  ?  " 

I  said  I  did  n't  see  why  she  should  n't  — 
and  believed  that  she  had. 


THE  NEW   ASSISTANT  AT  PINE 
CLEARING  SCHOOL. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  schoolmistress  of  Pine  Clearing  was 
taking  a  last  look  around  her  schoolroom 
before  leaving  it  for  the  day.  She  might 
have  done  so  with  pride,  for  the  schoolroom 
was  considered  a  marvel  of  architectural 
elegance  by  the  citizens,  and  even  to  the  or- 
dinary observer  was  a  pretty,  villa-like  struc- 
ture, with  an  open  cupola  and  overhanging 
roof  of  diamond-shaped  shingles  and  a  deep 
Elizabethan  porch.  But  it  was  the  monu- 
ment of  a  fierce  struggle  between  a  newer 
civilization  and  a  barbarism  of  the  old  days, 
which  had  resulted  in  the  clearing  away  of 
the  pines  —  and  a  few  other  things  as  in- 
congruous to  the  new  life  and  far  less  inno- 
cent, though  no  less  sincere.  It  had  cost 
the  community  fifteen  thousand  dollars,  and 
the  lives  of  two  of  its  citizens. 


176  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

Happily  there  was  no  stain  of  this  on  the 
clean  white  walls,  the  beautifully-written  gilt 
texts,  or  the  shining  blackboard  that  had 
offered  no  record  which  could  not  be  daily 
wiped  away.  And,  certainly,  the  last  person 
in  the  world  to  suggest  any  reminiscences  of 
its  belligerent  foundation  was  the  person  of 
the  schoolmistress.  Mature,  thin,  precise,  — 
not  pretty  enough  to  have  excited  Homeric 
feuds,  nor  yet  so  plain  as  to  preclude  certain 
soothing  graces,  —  she  was  the  widow  of  a 
poor  Congregational  minister,  and  had  been 
expressly  imported  from  San  Francisco  to 
squarely  mark  the  issue  between  the  regen- 
erate and  unregenerate  life.  Low-voiced, 
gentlewomanly,  with  the  pallor  of  ill-health 
perhaps  unduly  accented  by  her  mourning, 
which  was  still  cut  modishly  enough  to  show 
off  her  spare  but  good  figure,  she  was  sup- 
posed to  represent  the  model  of  pious,  scho- 
lastic refinement.  The  Opposition  —  sullen 
in  ditches  and  at  the  doors  of  saloons,  or  in 
the  fields  truculent  as  their  own  cattle  — 
nevertheless  had  lowered  their  crests  and 
buttoned  their  coats  over  their  revolutionary 
red  shirts  when  she  went  by. 

As  she  was  stepping  from  the  threshold, 
she  was  suddenly  confronted  by  a  brisk  busi- 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.          177 

ness-looking  man,  who  was  about  to  enter. 
"Just  in  time  to  catch  you,  Mrs.  Martin," 
he  said  hurriedly;  then,  quickly  correct- 
ing his  manifest  familiarity,  he  added :  "  I 
mean,  I  took  the  liberty  of  running  in  here 
on  my  way  to  the  stage  office.  That  matter 
you  spoke  of  is  all  arranged.  I  talked  it 
over  with  the  other  trustees,  wrote  to  Sam 
Barstow,  and  he 's  agreeable,  and  has  sent 
somebody  up,  and,"  he  rapidly  consulted  his 
watch,  "  he  ought  to  be  here  now  ;  and  I  'm 
on  my  way  to  meet  him  with  the  other 
trustees." 

Mrs.  Martin,  who  at  once  recognized  her 
visitor  as  the  Chairman  of  the  School  Board, 
received   the   abrupt   information  with   the 
slight  tremulousness,  faint  increase  of  color,4 
and  hurried  breathing  of  a  nervous  woman. 

"  But,"  she  said,  "  it  was  only  a  sugges- 
tion of  mine,  Mr.  Sperry ;  I  really  have  no 
right  to  ask  —  I  had  no  idea  "  — 

"  It 's  all  right,  ma'am,  —  never  you  mind. 
We  put  the  case  square  to  Barstow.  We 
allowed  that  the  school  was  getting  too  large 
for  you  to  tackle,  —  I  mean,  you  know,  to 
superintend  single-handed;  and  that  these 
Pike  County  boys  they  're  running  in  on  us 
are  a  little  too  big  and  sassy  for  a  lady  like 


178  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

you  to  lasso  and  throw  down  —  I  mean,  to 
sorter  control  —  don't  you  see  ?  But,  bless 
you,  Sam  Barstow  saw  it  all  in  a  minit !  He 
just  jumped  at  it.  I've  got  his  letter -here 
—  hold  on  " —  he  hastily  produced  a  letter 
from  his  pocket,  glanced  over  it,  suddenly 
closed  it  again  with  embarrassed  quickness, 
yet  not  so  quickly  but  that  the  woman's 
quicker  eyes  were  caught,  and  nervously 
fascinated  by  the  expression  "  I  'm  d — d  " 
in  a  large  business  hand  —  and  said  in  awk- 
ward haste,  "  No  matter  about  reading  it 
now  —  keep  you  too  long  —  but  he 's  agreed 
all  right,  you  know.  Must  go  now  —  they  '11 
be  waiting.  Only  I  thought  I  'd  drop  in 
a-passin',  to  keep  you  posted  ;  "  and,  taking 
off  his  hat,  he  began  to  back  from  the  porch. 

"  Is  —  is  —  this  gentleman  who  is  to  as- 
sist me  —  a  —  a  mature  professional  man  — 
or  a  —  graduate  ?  "  hesitated  Mrs.  Martin, 
with  a  faint  smile. 

"  Don't  really  know  —  I  reckon  Sam  — 
Mr.  Barstow  —  fixed  that  all  right.  Must 
really  go  now ;  "  and,  still  holding  his  hat 
in  his  hand  as  a  polite  compromise  for  his 
undignified  haste,  he  fairly  ran  off. 

Arrived  at  the  stage  office,  he  found  the 
two  other  trustees  awaiting  him,  and  the 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.         179 

still  more  tardy  stage-coach.  One,  a  large, 
smooth-faced,  portly  man,  was  the  Presby- 
terian minister ;  the  other,  of  thinner  and 
more  serious  aspect,  was  a  large  mill-owner. 

"  I  presume,"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  Peaseley, 
slowly,  "  that  as  our  good  brother  Barstow, 
in  the  urgency  of  the  occasion,  has,  to  some 
extent,  anticipated  our  functions  in  enga- 
ging this  assistant,  he  is  —  a  —  a  —  satisfied 
with  his  capacity  ?  " 

"  Sam  knows  what  he  's  about,"  said  the 
mill-owner  cheerfully,  "  and  as  he 's  regu- 
larly buckled  down  to  the  work  here,  and 
will  go  his  bottom  dollar  on  it,  you  can 
safely  leave  things  to  him." 

"  He  certainly  has  exhibited  great  zeal," 
said  the  reverend  gentleman  patronizingly. 

"Zeal,"  echoed  Sperry  enthusiastically, 
"  zeal?  Why,  he  runs  Pine  Clearing  as  he 
runs  his  bank  and  his  express  company  in 
Sacramento,  and  he  's  as  well  posted  as  if  he 
were  here  all  the  time.  Why,  look  here  ;  " 
he  nudged  the  mill-owner  secretly,  and,  as 
the  minister's  back  was  momentarily  turned, 
pulled  out  the  letter  he  had  avoided  reading 
to  Mrs.  Martin,  and  pointed  to  a  paragraph. 
"  I  '11  be  d— d,  "  said  the  writer,  "  but  I  '11 
have  peace  and  quietness  at  Pine  Clearing,  if 


180  THE  NE  W  ASSISTANT 

I  have  to  wipe  out  or  make  over  the  whole 
Pike  County  gang.  Draw  on  me  for  a  piano 
if  you  think  Mrs.  Martin  can  work  it.  But 
don't  say  anything  to  Peaseley  first,  or  he  '11 
want  it  changed  for  a  harmonium,  and  that 
lets  us  in  for  psalm-singing  till  you  can't 
rest.  Mind  !  I  don't  object  to  Church  in- 
fluence —  it 's  a  good  hold  !  —  but  you  must 
run  it  with  other  things  equal,  and  not  let  it 
run  you.  I  've  got  the  schoolhouse  insured 
for  thirty  thousand  dollars  —  special  rates 
too." 

The  mill-owner  smiled.  "  Sam's  head  is 
level !  But,"  he  added,  "  he  don't  say  much 
about  the  new  assistant  he  's  sending." 

"  Only  here,"  he  says,  "  I  reckon  the  man 
I  send  will  do  all  round  ;  for  Pike  County 
has  its  claims  as  well  as  Boston." 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  "  asked  the  mill- 
owner. 

"  I  reckon  he  means  he  don't  want  Pine 
Clearing  to  get  too  high-toned  any  more 
than  he  wants  it  too  low  down.  He 's  mighty 
square  in  his  averages  —  is  Sam." 

Here  speculation  was  stopped  by  the  rapid 
oncoming  of  the  stage-coach  in  all  the  impo- 
tent fury  of  a  belated  arrival.  "  Had  to  go 
round  by  Montezuma  to  let  off  Jack  Hill," 


AT  PfNE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.         181 

curtly  explained  the  driver,  as  he  swung 
himself  from  the  box,  and  entered  the  hotel 
bar-room  in  company  with  the  new  express- 
man, who  had  evidently  taken  Hill's  place 
on  the  box-seat.  Autocratically  indifferent 
to  further  inquiry,  he  called  out  cheerfully  : 
"  Come  along,  boys,  and  hear  this  yer  last 
new  yarn  about  Sam  Bar  stow,  —  it  's  the 
biggest  thing  out."  And  in  another  mo- 
ment the  waiting  crowd,  with  glasses  in  their 
hands,  were  eagerly  listening  to  the  repeti- 
tion of  the  "  yarn  "  from  the  new  express- 
man, to  the  apparent  exclusion  of  other  mat- 
ters, mundane  and  practical. 

Thus  debarred  from  information,  the  three 
trustees  could  only  watch  the  passengers  as 
they  descended,  and  try  to  identify  their  ex- 
pected stranger.  But  in  vain  :  the  bulk  of 
the  passengers  they  already  knew,  the  others 
were  ordinary  miners  and  laborers;  there 
was  no  indication  of  the  new  assistant  among 
them.  Pending  further  inquiry  they  were 
obliged  to  wait  the  conclusion  of  the  express- 
man's humorous  recital.  This  was  evidently 
a  performance  of  some  artistic  merit,  depend- 
ing upon  a  capital  imitation  of  an  Irishman, 
a  German  Jew,  and  another  voice,  which 
was  universally  recognized  and  applauded  as 


182  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

being  "  Sam's  style  all  over  ! "  But  for  the 
presence  of  the  minister,  Sperry  and  the 
mill-owner  would  have  joined  the  enthusi- 
astic auditors,  and  inwardly  regretted  the 
respectable  obligations  of  their  official  po- 
sition. 

When  the  story-teller  had  concluded 
amidst  a  general  call  for  more  drinks,  Sperry 
approached  the  driver.  The  latter  recog- 
nizing him,  turned  to  his  companion  care- 
lessly, said,  "Here  's  one  of  'em,"  and  was 
going  away  when  Sperry  stopped  him. 

"  We  were  expecting  a  young  man." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  driver,  impatiently,  "  and 
there  he  is,  I  reckon." 

"  We  don't  mean  the  new  expressman," 
said  the  minister,  smiling  blandly,  "but  a 
young  man  who  "  — 

"  That  ain't  no  new  expressman,"  returned 
the  driver  in  scornful  deprecation  of  his  in- 
terlocutor's ignorance.  "  He  only  took  Hill's 
place  from  Montezuma.  He  's  the  new  kid 
reviver  and  polisher  for  that  University 
you  're  runnin'  here.  I  say  —  you  fellers 
oughter  get  him  to  tell  you  that  story  of  Sam 
Barstow  and  the  Chinaman.  It  'd  limber 
you  fellers  up  to  hear  it." 

"I  fear  there's  some  extraordinary  mis- 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.          183 

take  here,"  said  Mr.  Peaseley,  with  a  chilling 
Christian  smile. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He 's  got  a  letter  from 
Sam  for  one  of  ye.  Yere,  Charley  —  what 's 
your  name  !  Com  yere.  Yere 's  all  yer 
three  bosses  waiting  for  ye." 

And  the  supposed  expressman  and  late 
narrator  of  amusing  stories  came  forward  and 
presented  his  credentials  as  the  assistant 
teacher  of  Pine  Clearing. 


CHAPTER  II. 

EVEN  the  practical  Mr.  Sperry  was  taken 
aback.  The  young  man  before  him  was 
squarely  built,  with  broad  shoulders,  and  a 
certain  air  of  muscular  activity.  But  his  face, 
although  good-humored,  was  remarkable  for 
offering  not  the  slightest  indication  of  stu- 
dious preoccupation  or  mental  training.  A 
large  mouth,  light  blue  eyes,  a  square  jaw, 
the  other  features  being  indistinctive  —  were 
immobile  as  a  mask  —  except  that,  unlike  a 
mask,  they  seemed  to  actually  reflect  the 
vacuity  of  the  mood  within,  instead  of  con- 
cealing it.  But  as  he  saluted  the  trustees 
they  each  had  the  same  feeling  that  even 
this  expression  was  imported  and  not  instinc- 
tive. His  face  was  clean-shaven,  and  his 
hair  cut  so  short  as  to  suggest  that  a  wig  of 
some  kind  was  necessary  to  give  it  charac- 
teristic or  even  ordinary  human  semblance. 
His  manner,  self-assured  yet  lacking  reality, 
and  his  dress  of  respectable  cut  and  material, 
yet  worn  as  if  it  did  not  belong  to  him,  com- 


AT  PINE   CLEARING  SCHOOL.         185 

pleted  a  picture  as  unlike  a  student  or  school- 
master as  could  be  possibly  conceived. 

Yet  there  was  the  letter  in  Mr.  Peaseley's 
hands  from  Barstow,  introducing  Mr.  Charles 
Twing  as  the  first  assistant  teacher  in  the 
Pine  Clearing  Free  Academy ! 

The  three  men  looked  hopelessly  at  each 
other.  An  air  of  fatigued  righteousness  and 
a  desire  to  be  spiritually  at  rest  from  other 
trials  pervaded  Mr.  Peaseley.  Whether  or 
not  the  young  man  felt  the  evident  objection 
he  had  raised,  he  assumed  a  careless  posi- 
tion, with  his  back  and  elbows  against  the 
bar ;  but  even  the  attitude  was  clearly  not 
his  own. 

"  Are  you  personally  known  to  Mr.  Bar- 
stow  ?  "  asked  Sperry,  with  a  slight  business 
asperity. 

"Yes." 

"  That  is  —  you  are  quite  well  acquainted 
with  him  ?  " 

"  If  you  'd  heard  me  gag  his  style  a  min- 
ute ago,  so  that  everybody  here  knew  who  it 
was,  you  'd  say  so." 

Mr.  Peaseley's  eyes  sought  the  ceiling,  and 
rested  on  the  hanging  lamp,  as  if  nothing 
short  of  direct  providential  interference 
could  meet  the  occasion.  Yet,  as  the  eyes 


186  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

of  his  brother  trustees  were  bent  on  him  ex- 
pectantly, he  nerved  himself  to  say  some- 
thing. 

"  I  suppose,  Mr.  —  Mr.  Twing,  you  have 
properly  understood  the  great  —  I  may  say, 
very  grave,  intellectual,  and  moral  responsi- 
bilities of  the  work  you  seek  to  undertake  — 
and  the  necessity  of  supporting  it  by  example, 
by  practice,  by  personal  influence  both  in  the 
school  and  out  of  it.  Sir,  I  presume,  sir, 
you  feel  that  you  are  fully  competent  to  un- 
dertake this  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  he  does  !  " 

"  TTAodoes?" 

"  Sam  Barstow,  or  he  would  n't  have  se- 
lected me.  I  presume  "  (with  the  slightest 
possible  and  almost  instinctive  imitation  of 
the  reverend  gentleman's  manner)  "  his  head 
is  considered  level." 

Mr.  Peaseley  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the 
ceiling.  "  I  have,"  he  said  to  his  compan- 
ions, with  a  pained  smile,  "  an  important 
choir  meeting  to  attend  this  afternoon.  I 
fear  I  must  be  excused."  As  he  moved  to- 
wards the  door,  the  others  formally  follow- 
ing him,  until  out  of  the  stranger's  hearing, 
he  added  :  "  I  wash  my  hands  of  this.  After 
so  wanton  and  unseemly  an  exhibition  of 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.    187 

utter  incompetency,  and  even  of  understand- 
ing of  the  trust  imposed  upon  him  —  upon 
us  —  my  conscience  forbids  me  to  interfere 
further.  But  the  real  arbiter  in  this  matter 
will  be  —  thank  Heaven !  —  the  mistress  her- 
self. You  have  only  to  confront  her  at  once 
with  this  man.  Her  decision  will  be  speedy 
and  final.  For  even  Mr.  Barstow  will  not 
dare  to  force  so  outrageous  a  character  upon 
a  delicate,  refined  woman,  in  a  familiar  and 
confidential  capacity." 

"That's  so,"  said  Sperry  eagerly  ;  "she'll 
settle  it.  And,  of  course,"  added  the  mill- 
owner,  "  that  will  leave  us  out  of  any  diffi- 
culty with  Sam." 

The  two  men  returned  to  the  hapless 
stranger,  relieved,  yet  constrained  by  the 
sacrifice  to  which  they  felt  they  were  leading 
him.  It  would  be  necessary,  they  said,  to 
introduce  him  to  his  principal,  Mrs.  Martin, 
at  once.  They  might  still  find  her  at  the 
schoolhouse,  distant  but  a  few  steps.  They 
said  little  else,  the  stranger  keeping  up  an 
ostentatious  whistling,  and  becoming  more 
and  more  incongruous,  they  thought,  as  they 
neared  the  pretty  schoolhouse.  Here  they 
did  find  Mrs.  Martin,  who  had,  naturally, 
lingered  after  the  interview  with  Sperry. 


188  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

She  came  forward  to  meet  them,  with  the 
nervous  shyness  and  slightly  fastidious  hesi- 
tation that  was  her  nature.  They  saw,  or 
fancied  they  saw,  the  same  surprise  and  dis- 
appointment they  had  themselves  experienced 
pass  over  her  sensitive  face,  as  she  looked  at 
him  ;  they  felt  that  their  vulgar  charge  ap- 
peared still  more  outrageous  by  contrast  with 
this  delicate  woman  and  her  pretty,  refined 
surroundings  ;  but  they  saw  that  he  enjoyed 
it,  and  was  even  —  if  such  a  word  could  be 
applied  to  so  self-conscious  a  man  —  more  at 
ease  in  her  presence  ! 

44 1  reckon  you  and  me  will  pull  together 
very  well,  ma'am,"  he  said  confidently. 

They  looked  to  see  her  turn  her  back 
upon  him ;  faint,  or  burst  out  crying ;  but 
she  did  neither,  and  only  gazed  at  him 
quietly. 

44  It 's  a  mighty  pretty  place  you  Ve  got 
here  —  and  I  like  it,  and  if  we  can't  run  it, 
I  don't  know  who  can.  Only  just  let  me 
know  what  you  want,  ma'am,  and  you  can 
count  on  me  every  time." 

To  their  profound  consternation  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin smiled  faintly. 

44  It  rests  with  you  only,  Mrs.  Martin," 
said  Sperry  quickly  and  significantly.  "  It 's 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.         189 

your  say,  you  know  ;  you  're  the  only  one  to 
be  considered  or  consulted  here." 

"  Only  just  say  what  you  want  me  to  do," 
continued  Twing,  apparently  ignoring  the 
trustees ;  "  pick  out  the  style  of  job ;  give 
me  a  hint  or  two  how  to  work  it,  or  what 
you  'd  think  would  be  the  proper  gag  to 
fetch  'em,  and  I  'm  there,  ma'am.  It  may 
be  new  at  first,  but  I  '11  get  at  the  business 
of  it  quick  enough." 

Mrs.  Martin  smiled  —  this  time  quite  per- 
ceptibly—  with  the  least  little  color  in  her 
cheeks  and  eyes.  "  Then  you  've  had  no  ex- 
perience in  teaching?  "  she  said. 

"Well  — no." 

"  You  are  not  a  graduate  of  any  college  ?  " 

"  Not  much." 

The  two  trustees  looked  at  each  other. 
Even  Mr.  Peaseley  had  not  conceived  such 
a  damning  revelation. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Martin  slowly,  "per- 
haps Mr.  Twing  had  better  come  early  to- 
morrow morning  and  begin." 

"Begin?"  gasped  Mr.  Sperry  in  breath- 
less astonishment. 

"Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Martin  in  timid 
explanation.  "  If  he  is  new  to  the  work  the 
sooner  the  better." 


190  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

Mr.  Sperry  could  only  gaze  blankly  at  his 
brother  official.  Had  they  heard  aright? 
Was  this  the  recklessness  of  nervous  excite- 
ment in  a  woman  of  delicate  health,  or  had 
the  impostor  cast  some  glamour  upon  her  ? 
Or  was  she  frightened  of  Sam  Barstow  and 
afraid  to  reject  his  candidate?  The  last 
thought  was  an  inspiration.  He  drew  her 
quickly  aside.  "  One  moment,  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin !  You  said  to  me  an  hour  ago  that  you 
did  n't  intend  to  have  asked  Mr.  Barstow  to 
send  you  an  assistant.  I  hope  that,  merely 
because  he  has  done  so,  you  don't  feel 
obliged  to  accept  this  man  against  your 
better  judgment  ?  " 

"  Oh  no, "  said  Mrs.  Martin  quietly. 

The  case  seemed  hopeless.  And  Sperry 
had  the  miserable  conviction  that  by  having 
insisted  upon  Mrs.  Martin's  judgment  be- 
ing final  they  had  estopped  their  own  right 
to  object.  But  how  could  they  have  fore- 
seen her  extraordinary  taste  ?  He,  however, 
roused  himself  for  a  last  appeal. 

"  Mrs.  Martin,  "  he  said  in  a  lower  voice, 
"  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Peaseley  strongly  doubts  the  competency  of 
that  young  man." 

"  Did  n't  Mr.  Barstow  make  a  selection  at 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.         191 

your  request  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Martin,  with  a 
faint  little  nervous  cough. 

«Yes  — but"  — 

"  Then  his  competency  only  concerns  me 
—  and  I  don't  see  what  Mr.  Peaseley  has  to 
say  about  it." 

Could  he  believe  his  senses  ?  There  was 
a  decided  flush  in  the  woman's  pale  face, 
and  the  first  note  of  independence  and  asper- 
ity in  her  voice. 

That  night,  in  the  privacy  of  his  conjugal 
chamber,  Mr.  Sperry  relieved  his  mind  to 
another  of  the  enigmatical  sex,  —  the  stout 
Southwestern  partner  of  his  joys  and  trou- 
bles. But  the  result  was  equally  unsatisfac- 
tory. "  Well,  Abner,"  said  the  lady,  "  I 
never  could  see,  for  all  your  men's  praises 
of  Mrs.  Martin,  what  that  feller  can  see  in 
her  to  like  !  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

MKS.  MARTIN  was  early  at  the  school- 
house  the  next  morning,  yet  not  so  early  but 
that  she  discovered  that  the  new  assistant 
had  been  there  before  her.  This  was  shown 
in  some  rearrangement  of  the  school  seats 
and  benches.  They  were  placed  so  as  to 
form  a  horseshoe  before  her  desk,  and  at 
the  further  extremity  of  this  semicircle  was 
a  chair  evidently  for  himself.  She  was  a 
little  nettled  at  his  premature  action,  al- 
though admitting  the  utility  of  the  change, 
but  she  was  still  more  annoyed  at  his  ab- 
sence at  such  a  moment.  It  was  nearly 
the  school  hour  when  he  appeared,  to  her 
surprise,  marshaling  a  file  of  some  of  the 
smaller  children  whom  he  had  evidently 
picked  up  en  route,  and  who  were,  to  her 
greater  surprise,  apparently  on  the  best  of 
terms  with  him.  "  Thought  I  'd  better  rake 
'em  in,  introduce  myself  to  'em,  and  get  'em 
to  know  me  before  school  begins.  Excuse 
me,"  he  went  on  hastily,  "  but  I  've  a  lot 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.         193 

more  coming  up,  and  I  'd  better  make  my- 
self square  with  them  outside"  But  Mrs. 
Martin  had  apparently  developed  a  certain 
degree  of  stiffness  since  their  evening's  in- 
terview. 

"  It  seems  to  me  quite  as  important,  Mr. 
Twing,"  she  said  drily,  "  that  you  should 
first  learn  some  of  your  own  duties,  which  I 
came  here  early  to  teach  you." 

"Not  at  all,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "To- 
day I  take  my  seat,  as  I  've  arranged  it,  you 
see,  over  there  with  them,  and  watch  'em 
go  through  the  motions.  One  rehearsal 's 
enough  for  me.  At  the  same  time,  I  can 
chip  in  if  necessary."  And  before  she  could 
reply  he  was  out  of  the  schoolhouse  again, 
hailing  the  new-comers.  This  was  done 
with  apparently  such  delight  to  the  children 
and  with  some  evidently  imported  expression 
into  his  smooth  mask-like  face,  that  Mrs. 
Martin  had  to  content  herself  with  watching 
him  with  equal  curiosity.  She  was  turning 
away  with  a  sudden  sense  of  forgotten  dig- 
nity, when  a  shout  of  joyous,  childish  laugh- 
ter attracted  her  attention  to  the  window. 
The  new  assistant,  with  half  a  dozen  small 
children  on  his  square  shoulders,  walking 
with  bent  back  and  every  simulation  of  ad- 


194  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

vanced  senility,  was  evidently  personating, 
with  the  assistance  of  astonishingly  distorted 
features,  the  ogre  of  a  Christmas  pantomime. 
As  his  eye  caught  hers  the  expression  van- 
ished, the  mask-like  face  returned ;  he  set 
the  children  down,  and  moved  away.  And 
when  school  began,  although  he  marshaled 
them  triumphantly  to  the  very  door,  —  with 
what  contortion  of  face  or  simulation  of  char- 
acter she  was  unable  to  guess,  —  after  he  had 
entered  the  schoolroom  and  taken  his  seat 
every  vestige  of  his  previous  facial  aberra- 
tion was  gone,  and  only  his  usual  stolidity 
remained.  In  vain,  as  Mrs.  Martin  expected, 
the  hundred  delighted  little  eyes  before  her 
dwelt  at  first  eagerly  and  hopefully  upon 
his  face,  but,  as  she  had  not  expected,  rec- 
ognizing from  the  blankness  of  his  demeanor 
that  the  previous  performance  was  intended 
for  them  exclusively,  the  same  eager  eyes 
were  presently  dropped  again  upon  their 
books  in  simple  imitation,  as  if  he  were  one 
of  themselves.  Mrs.  Martin  breathed  freely, 
and  lessons  began. 

Yet  she  was  nervously  conscious,  mean- 
while, of  a  more  ill-omened  occurrence. 
This  was  the  non-arrival  of  several  of  her 
oldest  pupils,  notably,  the  refractory  and  in- 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.         195 

corrigible  Pike  County  contingent  to  whom 
Sperry  had  alluded.  For  the  past  few  days 
they  had  hovered  on  the  verge  of  active  in- 
subordination, and  had  indulged  in  vague 
mutterings  which  she  had  resolutely  deter- 
mined not  to  hear.  It  was,  therefore,  with 
some  inward  trepidations,  not  entirely  re- 
lieved by  Twing's  presence,  that  she  saw  the 
three  Mackinnons  and  the  two  Hardees  slouch 
into  the  school  a  full  hour  after  the  lessons 
had  begun.  They  did  not  even  excuse  them- 
selves, but  were  proceeding  with  a  surly  and 
ostentatious  defiance  to  their  seats,  when 
Mrs.  Martin  was  obliged  to  look  up,  and  — 
as  the  eldest  Hardee  filed  before  her  —  to 
demand  an  explanation.  The  culprit  ad- 
dressed—  a  dull,  heavy-looking  youth  of 
nineteen  —  hesitated  with  an  air  of  mingled 
doggedness  and  sheepishness,  and  then,  with- 
out replying,  nudged  his  companion.  It  was 
evidently  a  preconcerted  signal  of  rebellion, 
for  the  boy  nudged  stopped,  and,  turning 
a  more  intelligent,  but  equally  dissatisfied, 
face  upon  the  schoolmistress,  began  deter- 
minedly :  — 

"  Wot 's  our  excuse  for  coming  an  hour 
late  ?  Well,  we  ain't  got  none.  We  don't 
call  it  an  hour  late  —  we  don't.  We  call  it 


196  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

the  right  time.  We  call  it  the  right  time  for 
our  lessons,  for  we  don't  allow  to  come  here 
to  sing  hymns  with  babbies.  We  don't  want 
to  know  4  where,  oh  where,  are  the  Hebrew 
children  ? '  They  ain't  nothiii'  to  us  Ameri- 
cans. And  we  don't  want  any  more  Daniels 
in  the  Lions'  Den  played  off  on  us.  We  have 
enough  of  'em  in  Sunday-school.  We  ain't 
hankerin'  much  for  grammar  and  dictionary 
hogwash,  and  we  don't  want  no  Boston  parts 
o'  speech  rung  in  on  us  the  first  thing  in  the 
mo'nin'.  We  ain't  Boston  —  we  're  Pike 
County  —  we  are.  We  reckon  to  do  our 
sums,  and  our  figgerin',  and  our  sale  and 
barter,  and  our  interest  tables  and  weights 
and  measures  when  the  time  comes,  and  our 
geograffy  when  it 's  on,  and  our  readin'  and 
writin'  and  the  American  Constitution  in 
reg'lar  hours,  and  then  we  calkilate  to  git 
up  and  git  afore  the  po'try  and  the  Boston 
airs  and  graces  come  round.  That 's  our 
rights  and  what  our  fathers  pay  school  taxes 
for,  and  we  want  'em." 

He  stopped,  looking  less  towards  the 
schoolmistress  than  to  his  companions,  for 
whom  perhaps,  after  the  schoolboy  fashion, 
this  attitude  was  taken.  Mrs.  Martin  sat, 
quite  white  and  self-contained,  with  her  eyes 


AT  PTNE   CLEARING  SCHOOL.         197 

fixed  on  the  frayed  rim  of  the  rebel's  straw 
hat  which  he  still  kept  on  his  head.  Then 
she  said  quietly  :  — 

"  Take  off  your  hat,  sir." 

The  boy  did  not  move. 

"  He  can't,"  said  a  voice  cheerfully. 

It  was  the  new  assistant.  The  whole 
school  faced  rapidly  towards  him.  The  rebel 
leader  and  his  followers,  who  had  not  noticed 
him  before,  stared  at  the  interrupter,  who 
did  not,  however,  seem  to  exhibit  any  of  the 
authority  of  office,  but  rather  the  comment 
and  criticism  of  one  of  themselves.  "  Wot 
you  mean  ?  "  asked  the  boy  indignantly. 

"  I  mean  you  can't  take  off  your  hat  be- 
cause you  've  got  some  things  stowed  away 
in  it  you  don't  want  seen,"  said  Twing,  with 
an  immovable  face. 

"Wot  things?"  exclaimed  the  boy  an- 
grily. Then  suddenly  recollecting  himself, 
he  added,  "  Go  along !  You  can't  fool  me ! 
Think  you  '11  make  me  take  off  iny  hat  — 
don't  you  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Twing,  advancing  to  the 
side  of  the  rebel,  "  look  here  then  !  "  With 
a  dexterous  movement  and  a  slight  struggle 
from  the  boy,  he  lifted  the  hat.  A  half-dozen 
apples,  a  bird's  nest,  two  birds'  eggs,  and  a 


198  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

fluttering  half-fledged  bird  fell  from  it.  A 
wave  of  delight  and  astonishment  ran  along 
the  benches,  a  blank  look  of  hopeless  be- 
wilderment settled  upon  the  boy's  face,  and 
the  gravity  of  the  situation  disappeared  for- 
ever in  the  irrepressible  burst  of  laughter,  in 
which  even  his  brother  rebels  joined.  The 
smallest  child  who  had  been  half-frightened, 
half -fascinated  by  the  bold,  bad,  heroic  atti- 
tude of  the  mutineer,  was  quick  to  see  the 
ridiculousness  of  that  figure  crowned  with 
(Jieap  schoolboy  plunder.  The  eloquent  pro- 
test of  his  wrongs  was  lost  in  the  ludicrous 
appearance  of  the  protester.  Even  Mrs. 
Martin  felt  that  nothing  she  could  say  at 
that  moment  could  lift  the  rebellion  into 
seriousness  again.  But  Twing  was  evidently 
not  satisfied. 

"  Beg  Mrs.  Martin's  pardon,  and  say  you 
were  foolin'  with  the  boys,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

The  discomfited  rebel  hesitated. 

"  Say  it,  or  I  '11  show  what  you  *ve  got  in 
your  pockets  I "  said  Twing  in  a  terribly  sig- 
nificant aside. 

The  boy  mumbled  an  apology  to  Mrs. 
Martin,  scrambled  in  a  blank,  hopeless  way 
to  his  seat,  and  the  brief  rebellion  ignomin- 


AT  PINE   CLEARING  SCHOOL.         199 

iously  ended.  But  two  things  struck  Mrs. 
Martin  as  peculiar.  She  overheard  the  cul- 
prit say,  with  bated  breath  and  evident  sin- 
cerity, to  his  comrades  :  "  Had  n't  nothing  in 
my  hat,  anyway !  "  and  one  of  the  infant  class 
was  heard  to  complain,  in  a  deeply-injured 
way,  that  the  bird's  nest  was  A  is,  and  had 
been  "  stoled  "  from  his  desk.  And  there 
still  remained  the  fact  for  which  Twing's  un- 
doubted fascination  over  the  children  had 
somewhat  prepared  her  —  that  at  recess  the 
malcontents  —  one  and  all  —  seemed  to  have 

i 

forgiven  the  man  who  had  overcome  them, 
and  gathered  round  him  with  unmistakable 
interest.  All  this,  however,  did  not  blind 
her  to  the  serious  intent  of  the  rebellion,  or 
of  Twing's  unaccountable  assumption  of  her 
prerogative.  While  he  was  still  romping 
with  the  children  she  called  him  in. 

"  I  must  remind  you,"  she  said,  with  a 
slight  nervous  asperity,  "  that  this  outra- 
geous conduct  of  Tom  Hardee  was  evidently 
deliberated  and  prepared  by  the  others,  and 
cannot  end  in  this  way." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  face  so  exasper- 
atingly  expressionless  that  she  could  have 
slapped  it  as  if  it  had  belonged  to  one  of 
the  older  scholars,  and  said,  —  "  But  it  has 
ended.  It 's  a  dead  frost." 


200  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean ;  and  1 
must  remind  you  also  that  in  this  school  we 
neither  teach  nor  learn  slang." 

His  immobile  face  changed  for  an  instant 
to  a  look  of  such  decided  admiration  that  she 
felt  her  color  rise  ;  but  he  wiped  his  expres- 
sion away  with  his  hand  as  if  it  had  been 
some  artificial  make-up,  and  said  awkwardly, 
but  earnestly :  — 

"  Excuse  me  —  won't  you  ?  But,  look 
here,  Mrs.  Martin,  I  found  out  early  this 
^morning,  when  I  was  squaring  myself  with 
the  other  children,  that  there  was  this  row 
hangin'  on  —  in  fact,  that  there  was  a  sort 
of  idea  that  Pike  County  was  n't  having  a 
fair  show  —  excuse  me  —  in  the  running  of 
the  school,  and  that  Peaseley  and  Barstow 
were  a  little  too  much  on  in  every  scene.  In 
fact,  you  see,  it  was  just  what  Tom  said." 

"  This  is  insufferable,"  said  Mrs.  Martin, 
her  eyes  growing  darker  as  her  cheeks  grew 
red.  "  They  shall  go  home  to  their  parents, 
and  tell  them  from  me  "  — 

"  That  they  're  all  mistaken  —  excuse  me 
—  but  that 's  just  what  they  're  goiri  to  do. 
I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Martin,  their  little  game  's 
busted  —  I  beg  pardon  —  but  it 's  all  over. 
You  '11  have  no  more  trouble  with  them." 


AT  PINE   CLEARING  SCHOOL.         201 

"And  you  think  that  just  because  you 
found  Tom  had  something  in  his  hat,  and 
exposed  him  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Martin  scornfully. 

"  Tom  had  nt  anything  in  his  hat,"  said 
Twing,  wiping  his  mouth  slowly. 

"  Nothing  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Martin. 

"No." 

"  Bat  I  saw  you  take  the  things  out." 

"  That  was  only  a  trick  !  He  had  nothing 
except  what  I  had  up  my  sleeve,  and  forced 
on  him.  He  knew  it,  and  that  frightened 
him,  and  made  him  look  like  a  fool,  and  so^ 
bursted  up  his  conspiracy.  There  's  nothin' 
boys  are  more  afraid  of  than  ridicule,  or  the 
man  or  boy  that  make  'em  ridiculous." 

"  I  won't  ask  you  if  you  call  this  fair  to 
the  boy,  Mr.  Twing?"  said  Mrs.  Martin 
hotly;  "but  is  this  your  idea  of  discipline?" 

"  I  call  it  fair,  because  Tom  knew  it  was 
some  kind  of  a  trick,  and  was  n't  deceived. 
I  call  it  discipline  if  it  made  him  do  what 
was  right  afterwards,  and  makes  him  afraid 
or  unwilling  to  do  anything  to  offend  me  or 
you  again.  He  likes  me  none  the  worse  for 
giving  him  a  chance  of  being  laughed  out 
of  a  thing  instead  of  being  driven  out  of  it. 
And,"  he  added,  with  awkward  earnestness, 
"  if  you  '11  just  leave  all  this  to  me,  and  only 


202  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

consider  me  here  to  take  this  sort  of  work  — 
which  ain't  a  lady's  —  off  your  hands,  we  '11 
just  strike  our  own  line  between  the  Pease- 
leys  and  Pike  County  —  and  run  this  school 
in  spite  of  both." 

A  little  mollified,  a  good  deal  puzzled,  and 
perhaps  more  influenced  by  the  man's  man- 
ner than  she  had  imagined,  Mrs.  Martin  said 
nothing,  but  let  the  day  pass  without  dismiss- 
ing the  offenders.  And  on  returning  home 
that  evening  she  was  considerably  surprised 
to  receive  her  landlady's  extravagant  con- 
gratulations on  the  advent  of  her  new  assist- 
ant. "  And  they  do  say,  Mrs.  Martin,"  con- 
tinued that  lady  enthusiastically,  "  that  your 
just  setting  your  foot  down  square  on  that 
Peaseley  and  that  Barstow,  both  of  'em  — 
and  choosing  your  own  assistant  yourself  — 
a  plain  young  fellow  with  no  frills  and  fan- 
cies, but  one  that  you  could  set  about  making 
all  the  changes  you  like,  was  just  the  biggest 
thing  you  ever  did  for  Pine  Clearing." 

"  And  —  they  —  consider  him  quite  — 
competent  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Martin,  with  timid 
color  and  hesitating  audacity. 

"  Competent !     You  ask  my  Johnny." 

Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Martin  was  somewhat 
formally  early  at  the  schoolhouse  the  next 


AT  PINE   CLEARING  SCHOOL.         203 

morning.  "  Perhaps,"  she  said,  with  an  odd 
mixture  of  dignity  and  timidity,  "  we  'd  bet- 
ter, before  school  commences,  go  over  the 
lessons  for  the  day." 

" I  have"  he  said  quickly.  " I  told  you 
one  rehearsal  was  enough  for  me." 

"You  mean  you  have  looked  over  them?" 

"  Got  'em  by  heart.  Letter  perfect. 
Want  to  hear  me  ?  Listen." 

She  did.  He  had  actually  committed  to 
memory,  and  without  a  lapse,  the  entire  text 
of  rules,  questions,  answers,  and  examples  of 
the  lessons  for  the  day. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BEFORE  a  month  had  passed,  Mr.  T wing's 
success  was  secure  and  established.  So  were 
a  few  of  the  changes  he  had  quietly  insti- 
tuted. The  devotional  singing  and  Scrip- 
ture reading  which  had  excited  the  discon- 
tent of  the  Pike  County  children  and  their 
parents  was  not  discontinued,  but  half  an 
hour  before  recess  was  given  up  to  some  sec- 
ular choruses,  patriotic  or  topical,  in  which 
the  little  ones  under  Twing's  really  wonder- 
ful practical  tuition  exhibited  such  quick  and 
pleasing  proficiency,  that  a  certain  negro 
minstrel  camp-meeting  song  attained  suffi- 
cient popularity  to  be  lifted  by  general  ac- 
cord to  promotion  to  the  devotional  exercises, 
where  it  eventually  ousted  the  objectiona- 
ble "  Hebrew  children "  on  the  question  of 
melody  alone.  Grammar  was  still  taught 
at  Pine  Clearing  School  in  spite  of  the  Har- 
dees  and  Mackinnons,  but  Twing  had  man- 
aged to  import  into  the  cognate  exercises  of 
recitation  a  wonderful  degree  of  enthusiasm 


AT  PINE   CLEARING  SCHOOL.         205 

and  excellence.  Dialectical  Pike  County, 
that  had  refused  to  recognize  the  governing 
powers  of  the  nominative  case,  nevertheless 
came  out  strong  in  classical  elocution,  and 
Tom  Hardee,  who  had  delivered  his  ungram- 
matical  protest  on  behalf  of  Pike  County, 
was  no  less  strong,  if  more  elegant,  in  his 
impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  as  Ed- 
mund Burke,  with  the  equal  sanction  of  his 
parents.  The  trustees,  Sperry  and  Jackson, 
had  marveled,  but  were  glad  enough  to  ac- 
cept the  popular  verdict  —  only  Mr.  Peaseley 
still  retained  an  attitude  of  martyr-like  for- 
bearance and  fatigued  toleration  towards  the 
new  assistant  and  his  changes.  As  to  Mrs. 
Martin,  she  seemed  to  accept  the  work  of 
Mr.  Twing  after  his  own  definition  of  it  — 
as  of  a  masculine  quality  ill-suited  to  a  lady's 
tastes  and  inclinations ;  but  it  was  notice- 
able that  while  she  had  at  first  repelled  any 
criticism  of  him  whatever,  she  had  lately 
been  given  to  explaining  his  position  to  her 
friends,  and  had  spoken  of  him  with  some- 
what labored  and  ostentatious  patronage. 
Yet  when  they  were  alone  together  she 
frankly  found  him  very  amusing,  and  his 
presumption  and  vulgarity  so  clearly  unin- 
tentional that  it  no  longer  offended  her. 


206  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

They  were  good  friends  without  having  any 
confidences  beyond  the  duties  of  the  school ; 
she  had  asked  no  further  explanation  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  selected  by  Mr.  Bar- 
stow  without  reference  to  any  special  antece- 
dent training.  What  his  actual  antecedents 
were  she  had  never  cared  to  know,  nor  he 
apparently  to  reveal ;  that  he  had  been  en- 
gaged in  some  other  occupations  of  superior 
or  inferior  quality  would  not  have  been  re- 
markable in  a  community  where  the  principal 
lawyer  had  been  a  soldier,  and  the  miller  a 
doctor.  The  fact  that  he  admired  her  was 
plain  enough  to  her  ;  that  it  pleased  her,  but 
carried  with  it  no  ulterior  thought  or  respon- 
sibility, might  have  been  equally  clear  to 
others.  Perhaps  it  was  so  to  Mm. 

Howbeit,  this  easy  mutual  intercourse 
was  one  day  interrupted  by  what  seemed  a 
trifling  incident.  The  piano,  which  Mr.  Bar- 
stow  had  promised,  duly  made  its  appear- 
ance in  the  schoolhouse,  to  the  delight  of 
the  scholars  and  the  gentle  satisfaction  of 
Mrs.  Martin,  who,  in  addition  to  the  rudi- 
mentary musical  instruction  of  the  younger 
girls,  occasionally  played  upon  it  herself  in 
a  prim,  refined,  and  conscientious  fashion. 
To  this,  when  she  was  alone  after  school 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.         207 

hours,  she  sometimes  added  a  faint,  color- 
less voice  of  limited  range  and  gentlewo- 
manly  expression.  It  was  on  one  of  these 
occasions  that  Twing,  becoming  an  acci- 
dental auditor  of  this  chaste,  sad  piping,  was 
not  only  permitted  to  remain  to  hear  the  end 
of  a  love  song  of  strictly  guarded  passion  in 
the  subjunctive  mood,  but  at  the  close  was 
invited  to  try  his  hand  —  a  quick,  if  not  a 
cultivated  one  —  at  the  instrument.  He  did 
so.  Like  her,  he  added  his  voice.  Like 
hers,  it  was  a  love  song.  But  there  the  si- 
militude ended.  Negro  in  dialect,  illiterate 
in  construction,  idiotic  in  passion,  and  pre- 
sumably addressed  to  the  "Rose  of  Ala- 
bama," in  the  very  extravagance  of  its 
childish  infatuation  it  might  have  been  a 
mockery  of  the  schoolmistress's  song  but  for 
one  tremendous  fact !  In  unrestrained  feel- 
ing, pathetic  yearning,  and  exquisite  tender- 
ness of  expression,  it  was  unmistakably  and 
appallingly  personal  and  sincere.  It  was 
true  the  lips  spoken  of  were  "  lubly,"  the 
eyes  alluded  to  were  like  "  lightenin'  bugs," 
but  from  the  voice  and  gestures  of  the 
singer  Mrs.  Martin  confusedly  felt  that  they 
were  intended  for  hers,  and  even  the  refrain 
that  "she  dressed  so  neat  and  looked  so 


208  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

sweet "  was  glaringly  allusive  to  her  own 
modish  mourning.  Alternately  flushing  and 
paling,  with  a  hysteric  smile  hovering  round 
her  small  reserved  mouth,  the  unfortunate 
gentlewoman  was  fain  to  turn  to  the  window 
to  keep  her  countenance  until  it  was  con- 
cluded. She  did  not  ask  him  to  repeat  it, 
nor  did  she  again  subject  herself  to  this 
palpable  serenade,  but  a  few  days  after- 
wards, as  she  was  idly  striking  the  keys  in 
the  interval  of  a  music  lesson,  one  of  her 
little  pupils  broke  out,  "  Why,  Mrs.  Martin, 
if  yo  ain't  a  pickin'  out  that  pow'ful  pretty 
tune  that  Mr.  Twing  sings !  " 

Nevertheless,  when  Twing,  a  week  or  two 
later,  suggested  that  he  might  sing  the  same 
song  as  a  solo  at  a  certain  performance  to 
be  given  by  the  school  children  in  aid  of 
a  local  charity,  she  drily  intimated  that  it 
was  hardly  of  a  character  to  suit  the  enter- 
tainment. "  But,"  she  added,  more  gently, 
"  you  recite  so  well ;  why  not  give  a  recita- 
tion?" 

He  looked  at  her  with  questioning  and 
troubled  eyes,  —  the  one  expression  he 
seemed  to  have  lately  acquired.  "  But  that 
would  be  in  public  I  There  '11  be  a  lot  of 
people  there,"  he  said  doubtfully. 


AT  PINE   CLEARING  SCHOOL.         209 

A  little  amused  at  this  first  apparent  sign 
of  a  want  of  confidence  in  himself,  she  said, 
with  a  reassuring  smile,  "  So  much  the  bet- 
ter,—  you  do  it  really  too  well  to  have  it 
thrown  away  entirely  on  children." 

"  Do  you  wish  it  ?  "  he  said  suddenly. 

Somewhat  confused,  but  more  irritated  by 
his  abruptness,  she  replied,  "  Why  not  ?  " 
But  when  the  day  came,  and  before  a 
crowded  audience,  in  which  there  was  a  fair 
sprinkling  of  strangers,  she  regretted  her 
rash  suggestion.  For  when  the  pupils  had 
gone  through  certain  calisthenic  exercises  — 
admirably  taught  and  arranged  by  him  — 
and  "  spoken  their  pieces,"  he  arose,  and, 
fixing  his  eyes  on  her,  began  Othello's  de- 
fense before  the  Duke  and  Council.  Here, 
as  on  the  previous  occasion,  she  felt  herself 
personally  alluded  to  in  his  account  of  his 
wooing.  Desdemona,  for  some  occult  rea- 
son, vicariously  appeared  for  her  in  the  un- 
warrantable picture  of  his  passion,  and  to 
this  was  added  the  absurd  consciousness 
which  she  could  not  put  aside  that  the  audi- 
ence, following  with  enthusiasm  his  really 
strong  declamation,  was  also  following  his 
suggestion  and  adopting  it.  Yet  she  was 
also  conscious,  and,  as  she  thought,  as  incon- 


210  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

sistently,  of  being  pleased  and  even  proud 
of  his  success.  At  the  conclusion  the  ap- 
plause was  general,  and  a  voice  added  with 
husky  admiration  and  familiarity  :  — 

"  Bray  vo,  Johnny  Walker  !  " 

Twing's  face  became  suddenly  white  as  a 
Pierrot  mask.  There  was  a  dead  silence,  in 
which  the  voice  continued,  "  Give  us  '  Sugar 
in  the  Gourd,'  Johnny." 

A  few  hisses,  and  cries  of  "  Hush !  "  "  Put 
him  out !  "  followed.  Mrs.  Martin  raised 
her  eyes  quickly  to  where  her  assistant  had 
stood  bowing  his  thanks  a  moment  before. 
He  was  gone ! 

More  concerned  than  she  cared  to  confess, 
vaguely  fearful  that  she  was  in  some  way 
connected  with  his  abrupt  withdrawal,  and 
perhaps  a  little  remorseful  that  she  had  al- 
lowed her  personal  feelings  to  interfere  with 
her  frank  recognition  of  his  triumph,  she 
turned  back  to  the  schoolroom,  after  the 
little  performers  and  their  audience  had  de- 
parted, in  the  hope  that  he  might  return. 
It  was  getting  late,  the  nearly  level  rays  of 
the  sun  were  lying  on  the  empty  benches  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  room,  but  the  desk 
where  she  sat  with  its  lid  raised  was  in  deep 
shadow.  Suddenly  she  heard  his  voice  in  a 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.    211 

rear  hall,  but  it  was  accompanied  by  an- 
other's,—  the  same  voice  which  had  inter- 
rupted the  applause.  Before  she  could  either 
withdraw,  or  make  herself  known,  the  two 
men  had  entered  the  room,  and  were  passing 
slowly  through  it.  She  understood  at  once 
that  Twing  had  slipped  out  into  a  janitor's 
room  in  the  rear,  where  he  had  evidently 
forced  an  interview  and  explanation  from 
his  interrupter,  and  now  had  been  waiting 
for  the  audience  to  disperse  before  emerg- 
ing by  the  front  door.  They  had  evidently 
overlooked  her  in  the  shadow. 

"  But,"  said  the  stranger,  as  if  following 
an  aggrieved  line  of  apology,  "  if  Barstow 
knew  who  you  were,  and  what  you  'd  done, 
and  still  thought  you  good  enough  to  rastle 
round  here  and  square  up  them  Pike  County 
fellers  and  them  kids  —  what  in  thunder  do 
you  care  if  the  others  do  find  you  out,  as 
long  as  Barstow  sticks  to  you  ?  " 

"I  've  told  you  why,  Dick,"  returned 
Twing  gloomily. 

"  Oh,  the  schoolma'am  !  " 

"  Yes,  she 's  a  saint,  an  angel.  More  than 
that — she's  a  lady,  Dick,  to  the  tip  of  her 
fingers,  who  knows  nothing  of  the  world 
outside  a  parson's  study.  She  took  me  on 


212  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT 

trust  —  without  a  word  —  when  the  trustees 
hung  back  and  stared.  She  's  never  asked 
me  about  myself,  and  now  when  she  knows 
who  and  what  I  have  been  —  she  '11  loathe 
me!" 

"  But  look  here,  Jim,"  said  the  stranger 
anxiously.  "  I  11  say  it  's  all  a  lie.  I  '11 
come  here  and  apologize  to  you  afore  her, 
and  say  I  took  you  for  somebody  else. 
I'll"  — 

"  It 's  too  late,"  said  Twing  moodily. 

"And  what '11  you  do  ?" 

"  Leave  here." 

They  had  reached  the  door  together.  To 
Mrs.  Martin's  terror,  as  the  stranger  passed 
out,  Twing,  instead  of  following  him  as  she 
expected,  said  "  Good-night,"  and  gloomily 
reentered  the  schoolroom.  Here  he  paused 
a  moment,  and  then  throwing  himself  on 
one  of  the  benches,  dropped  his  head  upon  a 
desk  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands  —  like 
a  very  schoolboy. 

What  passed  through  Mrs.  Martin's  mind 
I  know  not.  For  a  moment  she  sat  erect  arid 
rigid  at  her  desk.  Then  she  slipped  quietly 
down,  and,  softly  as  one  of  the  last  shadows 
cast  by  the  dying  sun,  glided  across  the  floor 
to  where  he  sat. 


AT  PINE  CLEARING  SCHOOL.         213 

u  Mrs.  Martin,"  he  said,  starting  to  his 
feet. 

"  I  have  heard  all,"  she  said  faintly.  "  I 
could  n't  help  it.  I  was  here  when  you  came 
in.  But  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  am  con- 
tent to  know  you  only  as  you  seem  to  be,  — 
as  I  have  always  found  you  here,  —  strong 
and  loyal  to  a  duty  laid  upon  you  by  those 
who  had  a  full  knowledge  of  all  you  had 
been." 

"  Did  you  ?  Do  you  know  what  I  have 
been?"  " 

Mrs.  Martin  looked  frightened,  trembled 
a  moment,  and,  recovering  herself  with  an 
effort,  said  gently,  "  I  know  nothing  of  your 
past." 

"  Nothing  ?  "  he  repeated,  with  a  mirthless 
attempt  at  laughter,  and  a  quick  breath. 
"  Not  that  I  Ve  been  a  —  a  —  mountebank, 
a  variety  actor  —  a  clown,  you  know,  for  the 
amusement  of  the  lowest,  at  twenty-five  cents 
a  ticket.  That  I  'm  4  Johnny  Walker,'  the 
song  and  dance  man  —  the  all-round  man  — 
selected  by  Mr.  Barstow  to  teach  these  boors 
a  lesson  as  to  what  they  wanted !  " 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  —  timidly, 
yet  thoughtfully.  "  Then  you  are  an  actor 
—  a  person  who  simulates  what  he  does  not 
feel?" 


214  THE  NEW  ASSISTANT. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  all  the  time  you  have  been  here  you 
have  been  acting  the  schoolmaster  —  play- 
ing a  part  —  for  —  for  Mr.  Barstow  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Always?" 

"  Yes." 

The  color  came  softly  to  her  face  again, 
and  her  voice  was  very  low.  "  And  when 
you  sang  to  me  that  day,  and  when  you 
looked  at  me  —  as  you  did  —  an  hour  or  two 
ago  —  while  you  were  entertaining  —  you 
were  —  only  —  acting  ?  " 

Mr.  Twing's  answer  was  not  known,  but 
it  must  have  been  a  full  and  complete  one, 
for  it  was  quite  dark  when  he  left  the  school- 
room —  not  for  the  last  time  —  with  its 
mistress  on  his  arm. 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THERE  was  probably  no  earthly  reason  why 
the  "Poco  Mas  o  Menos"  Club  of  San  Fran- 
cisco should  have  ever  existed,  or  why  its 
five  harmless,  indistinctive  members  should 
not  have  met  and  dined  together  as  ordinary 
individuals.  Still  less  was  there  any  justifi- 
cation for  the  gratuitous  opinion  which  ob- 
tained, that  it  was  bold,  bad,  and  brilliant. 
Looking  back  upon  it  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century  and  half  a  globe,  I  confess  I  cannot 
recall  a  single  witticism,  audacity,  or  humor- 
ous characteristic  that  belonged  to  it.  Yet 
there  was  no  doubt  that  we  were  thought  to 
be  extremely  critical  and  satirical,  and  I  am 
inclined  to  think  we  honestly  believed  it. 
To  take  our  seats  on  Wednesdays  and  Sat- 
urdays at  a  specially  reserved  table  at  the 
restaurant  we  patronized,  to  be  conscious  of 
being  observed  by  the  other  guests,  and  of 


216          IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

our  waiter  confidentially  imparting  our  fame 
to  strangers  behind  the  shaken-out  folds  of  a 
napkin,  and  of  knowing  that  the  faintest  in- 
dication of  merriment  from  our  table  thrilled 
the  other  guests  with  anticipatory  smiles, 
was,  I  am  firmly  convinced,  all  that  we  ever 
did  to  justify  our  reputations.  Nor,  strictly 
speaking,  were  we  remarkable  as  individuals ; 
an  assistant  editor,  a  lawyer,  a  young  army 
quartermaster,  a  bank  clerk  and  a  mining 
secretary  —  we  could  not  separately  chal- 
lenge any  special  social  or  literary  distinc- 
tion. Yet  I  am  satisfied  that  the  very  name 
of  our  Club  —  a  common  Spanish  colloquial- 
ism, literally  meaning  "  a  little  more  or  less," 
and  adopted  in  Californian  slang  to  express 
an  unknown  quantity  —  was  supposed  to  be 
replete  with  deep  and  convulsing  humor. 

My  impression  is  that  our  extravagant 
reputation,  and,  indeed,  our  continued  exist- 
ence as  a  Club,  was  due  solely  to  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  restaurant  and  two  of  his 
waiters,  and  that  we  were  actually  "  run  "  by 
them.  When  the  suggestion  of  our  meeting 
regularly  there  was  first  broached  to  the  pro- 
prietor —  a  German  of  slow  but  deep  emo- 
tions —  he  received  it  with  a  "  So  "  of  such 
impressive  satisfaction  that  it  might  have 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.          217 

been  the  beginning  of  our  vainglory.     From 
that  moment  he  became  at  once  our  patron 
and  our  devoted  slave.     To  linger  near  our 
table  once  or  twice  during  dinner  with  an 
air  of  respectful  vacuity,  —  as  of  one  who 
knew  himself  too  well  to  be  guilty  of  the 
presumption   of   attempting    to  understand 
our  brilliancy, — to  wear  a  certain  parental 
pride  and  unconsciousness  in  our  fame,  and 
yet  to  never  go  further  in  seeming  to  com- 
prehend it  than  to  obligingly  translate  the 
name  of  the  Club  as  "a  leedle  more  and  nod 
quide  so  much  "  —  was  to  him  sufficient  hap- 
piness.    That  he  ever  experienced  any  busi- 
ness profit  from  the  custom  of  the  Club,  or 
its  advertisement,  may  be  greatly  doubted  ; 
on  the  contrary,  that  a  few  plain  customers, 
nettled  at  our  self-satisfaction,    might  have 
resented  his  favoritism  seemed  more   prob- 
able.     Equally    vague,    disinterested,    and 
loyal  was  the  attachment  of  the  two  waiters, 
—  one  an  Italian,  faintly  reminiscent  of  bet- 
ter days  and  possibly  superior  extraction ; 
the  other  a  rough  but  kindly  Western  man, 
who  might  have  taken  this  menial  position 
from  temporary  stress  of  circumstances,  yet 
who  continued  in  it  from  sheer  dominance 
of  habit  and  some  feebleness  of  will.     They 


218          IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

both  vied  with  each  other  to  please  us.  It 
may  have  been  they  considered  their  attend- 
ance upon  a  reputed  intellectual  company 
less  degrading  than  ministering  to  the  purely 
animal  and  silent  wants  of  the  average  cus- 
tomers. It  may  have  been  that  they  were 
attracted  by  our  general  youthfulness.  In- 
deed, I  am  inclined  to  think  that  they  them- 
selves were  much  more  distinctive  and  inter- 
esting than  any  members  of  the  Club,  and 
it  is  to  introduce  them  that  I  venture  to  re- 
call so  much  of  its  history. 

A  few  months  after  our  advent  at  the 
restaurant,  one  evening,  Joe  Tallant,  the 
mining  secretary,  one  of  our  liveliest  mem- 
bers, was  observed  to  be  awkward  and  dis- 
trait during  dinner,  forgetting  even  to  offer 
the  usual  gratuity  to  the  Italian  waiter  who 
handed  him  his  hat,  although  he  stared  at 
him  with  an  imbecile  smile.  As  we  chanced 
to  leave  the  restaurant  together,  I  was  rally- 
ing him  upon  his  abstraction,  when  to  my 
surprise  he  said  gravely :  "  Look  here,  one 
of  two  things  has  got  to  happen :  either  we 
must  change  our  restaurant  or  I  'm  going  to 
resign." 
"Why?" 
"  Well,  to  make  matters  clear,  I  'm  obliged 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.         219 

to  tell  you  something  that  in  our  business 
we  usually  keep  a  secret.  About  three 
weeks  ago  I  had  a  notice  to  transfer  twenty 
feet  of  Gold  Hill  to  a  fellow  named  c  Tour- 
nelli.'  Well,  Tournelli  happened  to  call  for 
it  himself,  and  who  the  devil  do  you  suppose 
Tournelli  was?  Why  our  Italian  waiter. 
I  was  regularly  startled,  and  so  was  he. 
But  business  is  business ;  so  I  passed  him 
over  the  stock  and  said  nothing  —  nor  did 
he  —  neither  there  nor  here.  Day  before 
yesterday  he  had  thirty  feet  more  trans- 
ferred to  him,  and  sold  out." 

"  Well? "  I  said  impatiently. 

"Well,"  repeated  Tallant  indignantly. 
"Gold  Hill's  worth  six  hundred  dollars  a 
foot.  That 's  eighteen  thousand  dollars  cash. 
And  a  man  who  's  good  enough  for  that  much 
money  is  too  good  to  wait  upon  me.  Fancy 
a  man  who  could  pay  my  whole  year's  salary 
with  five  feet  of  stock  slinging  hash  to  me. 
Fancy  you  tipping  him  with  a  quarter !  " 

"  But  if  he  don't  mind  it  —  and  prefers 
to  continue  a  waiter  —  why  should  you  care  ? 
And  we  're  not  supposed  to  know." 

"  That  's  just  it,"  groaned  Tallaut. 
"  That 's  just  where  the  sell  comes  in.  Think 
how  he  must  chuckle  over  us !  No,  sir  ! 


220          IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

There 's  nothing  aristocratic  about  me ;  but, 
by  thunder,  if  I  can't  eat  my  dinner,  and 
feel  I  am  as  good  as  the  man  who  waits  on 
me,  I  '11  resign  from  the  Club." 

After  endeavoring  to  point  out  to  him 
the  folly  of  such  a  proceeding,  I  finally  sug- 
gested that  we  should  take  the  other  mem- 
bers of  our  Club  into  our  confidence,  and 
abide  by  their  decision  ;  to  which  he  agreed. 
But,  to  his  chagrin,  the  others,  far  from  par- 
ticipating in  his  delicacy,  seemed  to  enjoy 
Tournelli's  unexpected  wealth  with  a  vica- 
rious satisfaction  and  increase  of  dignity  as 
if  we  were  personally  responsible  for  it.  Al- 
though it  had  been  unanimously  agreed  that 
we  should  make  no  allusions,  jocose  or  seri- 
ous, to  him,  nor  betray  any  knowledge  of  it 
before  him,  I  am  afraid  our  attitude  at  the 
next  dinner  was  singularly  artificial.  A 
nervous  expectancy  when  he  approached  us, 
and  a  certain  restraint  during  his  presence, 
a  disposition  to  check  any  discussion  of 
shares  or  "  strikes  "  in  mining  lest  he  should 
think  it  personal,  an  avoidance  of  unneces- 
sary or  trifling  "  orders,"  and  a  singular 
patience  in  awaiting  their  execution  when 
given ;  a  vague  hovering  between  sympa- 
thetic respect  and  the  other  extreme  of  in- 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.          221 

different  bltmtness  in  our  requests,  tended, 
I  think,  to  make  that  meal  far  from  exhil- 
arating. Indeed,  the  unusual  depression 
affected  the  unfortunate  cause  of  it,  who 
added  to  our  confusion  by  increased  solici- 
tude of  service  and  —  as  if  fearful  of  some 
fault,  or  having  incurred  our  disfavor  — 
by  a  deprecatory  and  exaggerated  humility 
that  in  our  sensitive  state  seemed  like  the 
keenest  irony.  At  last,  evidently  interpret- 
ing our  constraint  before  him  into  a  desire 
to  be  alone,  he  retired  to  the  door  of  a  dis- 
tant pantry,  whence  he  surveyed  us  with 
dark  and  sorrowful  Southern  eyes.  Tallant, 
who  in  this  general  embarrassment  had  been 
imperfectly  served,  and  had  eaten  nothing, 
here  felt  his  grievance  reach  its  climax,  and 
in  a  sudden  outbreak  of  recklessness  he 
roared  out,  "  Hi,  waiter  —  you,  Tournelli. 
He  may,"  he  added,  turning  darkly  to  us, 
"  buy  up  enough  stock  to  control  the  board 
and  dismiss  me  ;  but,  by  thunder,  if  it  costs 
me  my  place,  I  'm  going  to  have  some  more 
chicken !  " 

It  was  probably  this  sensitiveness  that 
kept  us  from  questioning  him,  even  indi- 
rectly, and  perhaps  led  us  into  the  wildest 
surmises.  He  was  acting  secretly  for  a 


222         IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

brotherhood  or  society  of  waiters ;  he  was  a 
silent  partner  of  his  German  employer ;  he 
was  a  disguised  Italian  stockbroker,  gaining 
"  points  "  from  the  unguarded  conversation 
of  "  operating  "  customers ;  he  was  a  politi- 
cal refugee  with  capital ;  he  was  a  fugitive 
Sicilian  bandit,  investing  his  ill-gotten 
gains  in  California ;  he  was  a  dissipated 
young  nobleman,  following  some  amorous 
intrigue  across  the  ocean,  and  acting  as  his 
own  Figaro  or  Leporello.  I  think  a  ma- 
jority of  us  favored  the  latter  hypothesis, 
possibly  because  we  were  young,  and  his 
appearance  gave  it  color.  His  thin  black 
mustaches  and  dark  eyes,  we  felt,  were 
Tuscan  and  aristocratic ;  at  least,  they  were 
like  the  baritone  who  played  those  parts, 
and  he  ought  to  know.  Yet  nothing  could 
be  more  exemplary  and  fastidious  than  his 
conduct  towards  the  few  lady  frequenters  of 
the  "  Poodle  Dog  "  restaurant,  who,  I  regret 
to  say,  were  not  puritanically  reserved  or 
conventual  in  manner. 

But  an  unexpected  circumstance  presently 
changed  and  divided  our  interest.  It  was 
alleged  by  Clay,  the  assistant  editor,  that  en- 
tering the  restaurant  one  evening  he  saw  the 
back  and  tails  of  a  coat  that  seemed  familiar 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.          223 

to  him  half-filling  a  doorway  leading  to  the 
restaurant  kitchen.  It  was  unmistakably  the 
figure  of  one  of  our  Club  members,  —  the 
young  lawyer,  —  Jack  Manners.  But  what 
was  he  doing  there  ?  While  the  Editor  was 
still  gazing  after  him,  he  suddenly  disap- 
peared, as  if  some  one  had  warned  him  that 
he  was  observed.  As  he  did  not  reappear, 
when  Tournelli  entered  from  the  kitchen  a 
few  moments  later,  the  Editor  called  him  and 
asked  for  his  fellow-member.  To  his  sur- 
prise the  Italian  answered,  with  every  ap- 
pearance of  truthfulness,  that  he  had  not 
seen  Mr.  Manners  at  all !  The  Editor  was 
staggered  ;  but  as  he  chanced,  some  hours 
later,  to  meet  Manners,  he  playfully  rallied 
him  on  his  mysterious  conference  with  the 
Italian.  Manners  replied  briefly  that  he 
had  had  no  interview  whatever  with  Tour- 
nelli, and  changed  the  subject  quickly.  The 
mystery  —  as  we  persisted  in  believing  it  — 
was  heightened  when  another  member  de- 
posed that  he  had  seen  "  Tom,"  the  Western 
waiter,  coming  from  Manners's  office.  As 
Manners  had  volunteered  no  information  of 
this,  we  felt  that  we  could  not  without  indeli- 
cacy ask  him  if  Tom  was  a  client,  or  a  messen- 
ger from  Tournelli.  The  only  result  was  that 


224          IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

our  Club  dinner  was  even  more  constrained 
than  before.  Not  only  was  "  Tom  "  now  in- 
vested with  a  dark  importance,  but  it  was 
evident  that  the  harmony  of  the  Club  was 
destroyed  by  these  singular  secret  relations 
of  two  of  its  members  with  their  employes. 

It  chanced  that  one  morning,  arriving 
from  a  delayed  journey,  I  dropped  into  the 
restaurant.  It  was  that  slack  hour  between 
the  lingering  breakfast  and  coining  lunch- 
eon when  the  tables  are  partly  stripped  and 
unknown  doors,  opened  for  ventilation,  re- 
veal the  distant  kitchen,  and  a  mingled  flavor 
of  cold  coffee-grounds  and  lukewarm  soups 
hangs  heavy  on  the  air.  To  this  cheerless- 
ness  was  added  a  gusty  rain  without,  that 
filmed  the  panes  of  the  windows  and  doors, 
and  veiled  from  the  passer-by  the  usual 
tempting  display  of  snowy  cloths  and  china. 

As  I  seemed  to  be  the  only  customer  at 
that  hour,  I  selected  a  table  by  the  window 
for  distraction.  Tom  had  taken  my  order  ; 
the  other  waiters,  including  Tournelli,  were 
absent,  with  the  exception  of  a  solitary  Ger- 
man, who,  in  the  interlude  of  perfunctory  tri- 
fling with  the  casters,  gazed  at  me  with  that 
abstracted  irresponsibility  which  one  waiter 
assumes  towards  another's  customer.  Even 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.          225 

the  proprietor  had  deserted  his  desk  at  the 
counter.  It  seemed  to  be  a  favorable  oppor- 
tunity to  get  some  information  from  Tom. 

But  he  anticipated  me.  When  he  had 
dealt  a  certain  number  of  dishes  around  me, 
as  if  they  were  cards  and  he  was  telling  my 
fortune,  he  leaned  over  the  table  and  said, 
with  interrogating  confidence  :  — 

"  I  reckon  you  call  that  Mr.  Manners  of 
yours  a  good  lawyer  ?  " 

We  were  very  loyal  to  each  other  in  the 
Club,  and  I  replied  with  youthful  enthusi- 
asm that  he  was  considered  one  of  the  most 
promising  at  the  bar.  And,  remembering 
Tournelli,  I  added  confidently  that  whoever 
engaged  him  to  look  after  their  property 
interests  had  secured  a  treasure. 

"  But  is  he  good  in  criminal  cases  —  before 
a  police  court,  for  instance?  "  continued  Tom. 

I  believed  —  I  don't  know  on  what  grounds 
—  that  Manners  was  good  in  insurance  and 
admiralty  law,  and  that  he  looked  upon 
criminal  practice  as  low  ;  but  I  answered 
briskly  —  though  a  trifle  startled  —  that  as 
a  criminal  lawyer  he  was  perfect. 

"  He  could  advise  a  man,  who  had  a  row 
hanging  on,  how  to  steer  clear  of  being  up 
for  murder  —  eh  ?  " 


226          IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

I  trusted,  with  a  desperate  attempt  at  jo- 
cosity, that  neither  he  nor  Tournelli  had 
been  doing  anything  to  require  Manners' s 
services  in  that  way. 

"  It  would  be  too  late,  then"  said  Tom, 
coolly,  "  and  anybody  could  tell  a  man  what 
he  ought  to  have  done,  or  how  to  make  the 
best  of  what  he  had  done ;  but  the  smart 
thing  in  a  lawyer  would  be  to  give  a  chap 
points  beforehand,  and  sorter  tell  him  how 
far  he  could  go,  and  yet  keep  inside  the  law. 
How  he  might  goad  a  fellow  to  draw  on  him, 
and  then  plug  him  —  eh  ?  " 

I  looked  up  quickly.  There  was  nothing 
in  his  ordinary,  good-humored,  but  not  very 
strong  face  to  suggest  that  he  himself  was 
the  subject  of  this  hypothetical  case.  If  he 
were  speaking  for  Tournelli,  the  Italian 
certainly  was  not  to  be  congratulated  on 
his  ambassador's  prudence  ;  and,  above  all, 
Manners  was  to  be  warned  of  the  interpreta- 
tion which  might  be  put  upon  his  counsels, 
and  disseminated  thus  publicly.  As  I  was 
thinking  what  to  say,  he  moved  away,  but 
suddenly  returned  again. 

"What  made  you  think  Tournelli  had 
been  up  to  anything  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

"Nothing,"  I  answered  ;  "I  only  thought 
you  and  he,  being  friends  "  — 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.         227 

"  You  mean  we  're  both  waiters  in  the 
same  restaurant.  Well,  I  don't  know  him 
any  better  than  I  know  that  chap  over 
there,"  pointing  to  the  other  waiter.  "  He 's 
a  Greaser  or  an  Italian,  and,  I  reckon,  goes 
with  his  kind." 

Why  had  we  not  thought  of  this  before  ? 
Nothing  would  be  more  natural  than  that 
the  rich  and  imperious  Tournelli  should  be 
exclusive,  and  have  no  confidences  with  his 
enforced  associates.  And  it  was  evident 
that  Tom  had  noticed  it  and  was  jealous. 

"I  suppose  he's  rather  a  swell, isn't  he?" 
I  suggested  tentatively. 

A  faint  smile  passed  over  Tom's  face.  It 
was  partly  cynical  and  partly  suggestive  of 
that  amused  toleration  of  our  youthful  cre- 
dulity which  seemed  to  be  a  part  of  that  dis- 
composing patronage  that  everybody  ex- 
tended to  the  Club.  As  he  said  nothing,  I 
continued  encouragingly :  — 

"  Because  a  man 's  a  waiter,  it  does  n't 
follow  that  he's  always  been  one,  or  always 
will  be." 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  abstractedly ;  "  but  it 's 
about  as  good  as  anything  else  to  lie  low  and 
wait  on."  But  here  two  customers  entered, 
and  he  turned  to  them,  leaving  me  in  doubt 


228          IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

whether  to  accept  this  as  a  verbal  pleasantry 
or  an  admission.  Only  one  thing  seemed 
plain :  I  had  certainly  gained  no  informa- 
tion, and  only  added  a  darker  mystery  to  his 
conference  with  Manners,  which  I  deter- 
mined I  should  ask  Manners  to  explain. 

I  finished  my  meal  in  solitude.  The  rain 
was  still  beating  drearily  against  the  win- 
dows with  an  occasional  accession  of  impulse 
that  seemed  like  human  impatience.  Vague 
figures  under  dripping  umbrellas,  that  hid 
their  faces  as  if  in  premeditated  disguise, 
hurried  from  the  main  thoroughfare.  A 
woman  in  a  hooded  waterproof  like  a  dom- 
ino, a  Mexican  in  a  black  serape,  might 
have  been  stage  conspirators  hastening  to  a 
rendezvous.  The  cavernous  chill  and  odor 
which  I  had  before  noted  as  coming  from 
some  sarcophagus  of  larder  or  oven,  where 
"  funeral  baked  meats "  might  have  been 
kept  in  stock,  began  to  oppress  me.  The 
hollow  and  fictitious  domesticity  of  this 
common  board  had  never  before  seemed  so 
hopelessly  displayed.  And  Tom,  the  waiter, 
his  napkin  twisted  in  his  hand  and  his  face 
turned  with  a  sudden  dark  abstraction  to- 
wards the  window,  appeared  to  be  really 
"  lying  low,"  and  waiting  for  something  out- 
side his  avocation. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  fact  that  Tom  did  not  happen  to  be 
on  duty  at  the  next  Club  dinner  gave  me 
an  opportunity  to  repeat  his  mysterious  re- 
mark to  Manners,  and  to  jokingly  warn  that 
rising  young  lawyer  against  the  indiscretion 
of  vague  counsel.  Manners,  however,  only 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  don't  know  what 
he  meant,"  he  said  carelessly  ;  "  but  since 
he  chooses  to  talk  of  his  own  affairs  publicly, 
/  don't  mind  saying  that  they  are  neither 
very  weighty  nor  very  dangerous.  It 's 
only  the  old  story:  the  usual  matrimonial 
infidelities  that  are  mixed  up  with  the  Cali- 
fornian  emigration.  He  leaves  the  regular 
wife  behind,  —  fairly  or  unfairly,  I  can't  say. 
She  gets  tired  waiting,  after  the  usual  style, 
and  elopes  with  somebody  else.  The  West- 
ern Penelope  is  n't  built  for  waiting.  But 
she  seems  to  have  converted  some  of  his 
property  into  cash  when  she  skipped  from 
St.  Louis,  and  that 's  where  his  chief  concern 
comes  in.  That 's  what  he  wanted  to  see  me 


230          IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

for ;  that 's  why  he  inveigled  me  into  that  in- 
fernal pantry  of  his  one  day  to  show  me  a  plan 
of  his  property,  as  if  that  was  any  good." 

He  paused  disgustedly.  We  all  felt,  I 
think,  that  Tom  was  some  kind  of  an  im- 
postor, claiming  the  sympathies  of  the  Club 
on  false  pretenses.  Nevertheless,  the  Quar- 
termaster said,  "  Then  you  did  n't  do  any- 
thing for  him  —  give  him  any  advice,  eh?" 

"  No ;  for  the  property  's  as  much  hers  as 
his,  and  he  has  n't  got  a  divorce  ;  and,  as 
it 's  doubtful  whether  he  did  n't  desert  her 
first,  he  can't  get  one.  He  was  surprised," 
he  added,  with  a  grim  smile,  "  when  I  told 
him  that  he  was  obliged  to  support  her,  and 
was  even  liable  for  her  debts.  But  people 
who  are  always  talking  of  invoking  the  law 
know  nothing  about  it."  We  were  surprised 
too,  although  Manners  was  always  convin- 
cing us,  in  some  cheerful  but  discomposing 
way,  that  we  were  all  daily  and  hourly,  in 
our  simplest  acts,  making  ourself  responsible 
for  all  sorts  of  liabilities  and  actions,  and 
even  generally  preparing  ourselves  for  ar- 
rest and  imprisonment.  The  Quartermaster 
continued  lazily :  — 

"Then  you  didn't  give  him  any  points 
about  shooting  ?  " 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.         231 

"  No ;  he  does  n't  even  know  the  man  she 
went  off  with.  It  was  eighteen  months  ago, 
and  I  don't  believe  he'd  even  know  her 
again  if  he  met  her.  But,  if  he  is  n't  much 
of  a  client,  we  shall  miss  him  to-night  as 
a  waiter,  for  the  place  is  getting  full,  and 
there  are  not  enough  to  serve." 

The  restaurant  was,  indeed,  unusually 
crowded  that  evening  ;  the  more  so  that,  the 
private  rooms  above  being  early  occupied, 
some  dinner  parties  and  exclusive  couples 
had  been  obliged  to  content  themselves  with 
the  public  dining  saloon.  A  small  table 
nearest  us,  usually  left  vacant  to  insure  a 
certain  seclusion  to  the  Club,  was  arranged, 
with  a  deprecatory  apology  from  the  proprie- 
tor, for  one  of  those  couples,  a  man  and 
woman.  The  man  was  a  well-known  specula- 
tor,—  cool, yet  reckless  and  pleasure-loving; 
the  woman,  good-looking,  picturesquely  at- 
tractive, self-conscious,  and  self-possessed. 
Our  propinquity  was  evidently  neither  novel 
nor  discomposing.  As  she  settled  her  skirts 
in  her  place,  her  bright,  dark  eyes  swept 
our  table  with  a  frank,  almost  childish,  fa- 
miliarity. The  younger  members  of  the 
Club  quite  unconsciously  pulled  up  their 
collars  and  settled  their  neckties ;  the  elders 


232          IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

\ 

as  unconsciously  raised  their  voices  slightly, 
and  somewhat  arranged  their  sentences. 
Alas  !  the  simplicity  and  unaffectedness  of 
the  Club  were  again  invaded. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  crash,  the  breaking 
of  glass,  and  an  exclamation.  Tournelli,  no 
doubt  disorganized  by  the  unusual  hurry,  on 
his  way  to  our  table  had  dropped  his  tray, 
impartially  distributed  a  plate  of  asparagus 
over  an  adjoining  table,  and,  flushed  and 
nervous,  yet  with  an  affectation  of  studied 
calmness,  was  pouring  the  sauce  into  the 
young  Quartermaster's  plate,  in  spite  of  his 
languid  protests.  At  any  other  time  we 
would  have  laughed,  but  there  was  something 
in  the  exaggerated  agitation  of  the  Italian 
that  checked  our  mirth.  Why  should  he  be 
so  upset  by  a  trifling  accident  ?  He  could 
afford  to  pay  for  the  breakage  ;  he  would 
laugh  at  dismissal.  Was  it  the  sensitive- 
ness of  a  refined  nature,  or  —  he  was  young 
and  good-looking  —  was  he  disconcerted  by 
the  fact  that  our  handsome  neighbor  had 
witnessed  his  awkwardness?  But  she  was 
not  laughing,  and,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  was 
intently  regarding  the  bill  of  fare. 

"  Waiter !  "  called  her  companion,  hailing 
Tournelli.  "  Here  !  "  The  Italian,  with  a 


7^  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.          233 

face  now  distinctly  white,  leaned  over  the 
table,  adjusting  the  glasses,  but  did  not 
reply. 

44  Waiter ! "  repeated  the  stranger,  sharply. 
Tournelli's  face  twitched,  then  became  set  as 
a  mask  ;  but  he  did  not  move.  The  stranger 
leaned  forward  and  pulled  his  apron  from 
behind.  Tournelli  started  with  flashing  eyes, 
and  turned  swiftly  round.  But  the  Quarter- 
master's hand  had  closed  on  his  wrist. 

44  That 's  my  knife,  Tournelli." 

The  knife  dropped  from  the  Italian's  fin- 
gers. 

44  Better  see  what  he  wants.  It  may  not 
be  that"  said  the  young  officer,  coolly  but 
kindly. 

Tournelli  turned  impatiently  towards  the 
stranger.  We  alone  had  witnessed  this  in- 
cident, and  were  watching  him  breathlessly. 
Yet  what  bade  fair  a  moment  ago  to  be  a 
tragedy,  seemed  now  to  halt  grotesquely. 
For  Tournelli,  throwing  open  his  linen  jacket 
with  a  melodramatic  gesture,  tapped  his 
breast,  and  with  flashing  eyes  and  suppressed 
accents  said,  "  Sare ;  you  wantah  me  ?  Look 
—  I  am  herre  !  " 

The  speculator  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
in  good-humored  astonishment.  The  lady's 


234          IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

black  eyes,  without  looking  at  Tournelli, 
glanced  backward  round  the  room,  and 
slipped  along  our  table,  with  half-defiant  un- 
concern ;  and  then  she  uttered  a  short  hys- 
terical laugh. 

"  Ah !  ze  lady  —  madame  —  ze  signora  — 
eh  —  she  wantah  me  ?  "  continued  Tournelli, 
leaning  on  the  table  with  compressed  fingers, 
and  glaring  at  her.  "  Perhaps  she  wantah 
Tournelli  — eh?" 

"  Well,  you  might  bring  some  with  the 
soup,"  blandly  replied  her  escort,  who  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  Italian's  excitement  as  a  na- 
tional eccentricity ;  "  but  hurry  up  and  set 
the  table,  wiU  you  ?  " 

Then  followed,  on  the  authority  of  the 
Editor,  who  understood  Italian,  a  singular 
scene.  Secure,  apparently,  in  his  belief  that 
his  language  was  generally  uncomprehended, 
Tournelli  brought  a  decanter,  and,  setting 
it  on  the  table,  said,  "  Traitress !  "  in  an  in- 
tense whisper.  This  was  followed  by  the 
cruets,  which  he  put  down  with  the  excla- 
mation, "  Perjured  fiend  !  "  Two  glasses, 
placed  on  either  side  of  her,  carried  the  word 
"  Apostate !  "  to  her  ear ;  and  three  knives 
and  forks,  rattling  more  than  was  necessary, 
and  laid  crosswise  before  her  plate,  were  ac- 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.          235 

companied  with  "  Tremble,  wanton ! "  Then, 
as  he  pulled  the  tablecloth  straight,  and  os- 
tentatiously concealed  a  wine-stain  with  a 
clean  napkin,  scarcely  whiter  than  his  lips, 
he  articulated  under  his  breath  :  "  Let  him 
beware !  he  goes  not  hence  alive  !  I  will 
slice  his  craven  heart  —  thus  —  and  thou 
shalt  see  it."  He  turned  quickly  to  a  side 
table  and  brought  back  a  spoon.  "  And  this 
is  why  I  have  not  found  you ; "  another 
spoon,  "  For  this  you  have  disappeared ; "  a 
purely  perfunctory  polishing  of  her  fork, 
"  For  him,  bah !  "  an  equally  unnecessary 
wiping  of  her  glass,  "  Blood  of  God !  "  — 
more  wiping  —  "  It  will  end  !  Yes  "  — 
general  wiping  and  a  final  flourish  over  the 
whole  table  with  a  napkin  —  "I  go,  but  at 
the  door  I  shall  await  you  both." 

She  had  not  spoken  yet,  nor  even  lifted 
her  eyes.  When  she  did  so,  however,  she 
raised  them  level  with  his,  showed  all  her 
white  teeth  —  they  were  small  and  cruel- 
looking  —  and  said  smilingly  in  his  own 
dialect :  — 

44  Thief!" 

Tournelli  halted,  rigid. 

"  You  're  talking  his  lingo,  eh  ?  "  said  her 
escort  good-humoredly. 


236          /JV  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

"Yes." 

44  Well —  tell  him  to  bustle  around  and  be 
a  little  livelier  with  the  dinner,  won't  you  ? 
This  is  only  skirmishing." 

44  You  hear,"  she  continued  to  Tournelli 
in  a  perfectly  even  voice;  44or  shall  it  be  a 
policeman,  and  a  charge  of  stealing?  " 

44  Stealing  !  "  gasped  Tournelli.  44  You 
say  stealing !  " 

44  Yes  —  ten  thousand  dollars.  You  are 
well  disguised  here,  my  little  fellow ;  it  is  a 
good  business  —  yours.  Keep  it  while  you 


can." 


I  think  he  would  have  sprung  upon  her 
there  and  then,  but  that  the  Quartermaster, 
who  was  nearest  him,  and  had  been  intently 
watching  his  face,  made  a  scarcely  percepti- 
ble movement  as  if  ready  to  anticipate  him. 
He  caught  the  officer's  eye  ;  caught,  I  think, 
in  ours  the  revelation  that  he  had  been  un- 
derstood, drew  back  with  a  sidelong,  sinuous 
movement,  and  disappeared  in  the  passage 
to  the  kitchen. 

I  believe  we  all  breathed  more  freely, 
although  the  situation  was  still  full  enough 
of  impending  possibilities  to  prevent  peace- 
ful enjoyment  of  our  dinner.  As  the  Editor 
finished  his  hurried  translation,  it  was  sug- 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.          237 

gested  that  we  ought  to  warn  the  unsuspect- 
ing escort  of  Tournelli's  threats.  But  it  was 
pointed  out  that  this  would  be  betraying  the 
woman,  and  that  Jo  Hays  (her  companion) 
was  fully  able  to  take  care  of  himself.  "  Be- 
sides," said  the  Editor,  aggrievedly,  "  you 
fellows  only  think  of  yourselves,  and  you 
don't  understand  the  first  principles  of  jour- 
nalism. Do  you  suppose  I'm  going  to  do 
anything  to  spoil  a  half-column  of  leaded 
brevier  copy  —  from  an  eye-witness,  too? 
No ;  it 's  a  square  enough  fight  as  it  stands. 
We  must  look  out  for  the  woman,  and  not 
let  Tournelli  get  an  unfair  drop  on  Hays. 
That  is,  if  the  whole  thing  isn't  a  bluff." 

But  the  Italian  did  not  return.  Whether 
he  had  incontinently  fled,  or  was  nursing  his 
wrath  in  the  kitchen,  or  already  fulfilling  his 
threat  of  waiting  on  the  pavement  outside 
the  restaurant,  we  could  not  guess.  Another 
waiter  appeared  with  the  dinners  they  had 
ordered.  A  momentary  thrill  of  excitement 
passed  over  us  at  the  possibility  that  Tour- 
nelli had  poisoned  their  soup  ;  but  it  pres- 
ently lapsed,  as  we  saw  the  couple  partaking 
of  it  comfortably,  and  chatting  with  appar- 
ent unconcern.  Was  the  scene  we  had  just 
witnessed  only  a  piece  of  Southern  exagger- 


238         IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

ation?  Was  the  woman  a  creature  devoid 
of  nerves  or  feeling  of  any  kind  ;  or  was  she 
simply  a  consummate  actress  ?  Yet  she  was 
clearly  not  acting,  for  in  the  intervals  of 
conversation,  and  even  while  talking,  her 
dark  eyes  wandered  carelessly  around  the 
room,  with  the  easy  self-confidence  of  a  pretty 
woman.  We  were  beginning  to  talk  of 
something  else,  when  the  Editor  said  sud- 
denly, in  a  suppressed  voice :  — 

u  Hullo !  What 's  the  matter  now  ?  " 
The  woman  had  risen,  and  was  hurriedly 
throwing  her  cloak  over  her  shoulders.  But 
it  was  her  face  that  was  now  ashen  and  agi- 
tated, and  we  could  see  that  her  hands  were 
trembling.  Her  escort  was  assisting  her, 
but  was  evidently  as  astonished  as  ourselves. 
"  Perhaps,"  he  suggested  hopefully,  "  if  you 
wait  a  minute  it  will  pass  off." 

"  No,  no,"  she  gasped,  still  hurriedly  wrest- 
ling with  her  cloak.  "  Don't  you  see  I  'm 
suffocating  here  —  I  want  air.  You  can  fol- 
low ! "  She  began  to  move  off,  her  face 
turned  fixedly  in  the  direction  of  the  door. 
We  instinctively  looked  there  —  perhaps  for 
Tournelli.  There  was  no  one.  Neverthe- 
less, the  Editor  and  Quartermaster  had  half- 
risen  from  their  seats. 


IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.         239 

"  Helloo  !  "  said  Manners  suddenly. 
"  There  's  Tom  just  come  in.  Call  him  !  " 

Tom,  evidently  recalled  from  his  brief  fur- 
lough by  the  proprietor  on  account  of  the 
press  of  custom,  had  just  made  his  appear- 
ance from  the  kitchen. 

"Tom,  where's  Tournelli  ? "  asked  the 
Lawyer  hurriedly,  but  following  the  retreat- 
ing woman  with  his  eyes. 

"  Skipped,  they  say.  Somebody  insulted 
him,"  said  Tom  curtly. 

"  You  did  n't  see  him  hanging  round  out- 
side, eh  ?  Swearing  vengeance  ?  "  asked  the 
Editor. 

"  No,"  said  Tom  scornfully. 

The  woman  had  reached  the  door,  and 
darted  out  of  it  as  her  escort  paused  a  mo- 
ment at  the  counter  to  throw  down  a  coin. 
Yet  in  that  moment  she  had  hurried  before 
him  through  the  passage  into  the  street.  I 
turned  breathlessly  to  the  window.  For  an  in- 
stant her  face,  white  as  a  phantom's,  appeared 
pressed  rigidly  against  the  heavy  plate-glass, 
her  eyes  staring  with  a  horrible  fascination 
back  into  the  room  —  I  even  imagined  at  us. 
Perhaps,  as  it  was  evident  that  Tournelli  was 
not  with  her,  she  fancied  he  was  still  here ; 
perhaps  she  had  mistaken  Tom  for  him !  How- 


240         IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

ever,  her  escort  quickly  rejoined  her ;  their 
shadows  passed  the  window  together  —  they 
were  gone. 

Then  a  pistol-shot  broke  the  quiet  of  the 
street. 

The  Editor  and  Quartermaster  rose  and 
ran  to  the  door.  Manners  rose  also,  but  lin- 
gered long  enough  to  whisper  to  me,  "  Don't 
lose  sight  of  Tom,"  and  followed  them.  But 
to  my  momentary  surprise  no  one  else  moved. 
I  had  forgotten,  in  the  previous  excitement, 
that  in  those  days  a  pistol-shot  was  not  un- 
usual enough  to  attract  attention.  A  few 
raised  their  heads  at  the  sound  of  running 

O 

feet  on  the  pavement,  and  the  flitting  of  black 
shadows  past  the  windows.  Tom  had  not 
stirred,  but,  napkin  in  hand,  and  eyes  fixed  on 
vacancy,  was  standing,  as  I  had  seen  him  once 
before,  in  an  attitude  of  listless  expectation. 
In  a  few  minutes  Manners  returned.  I 
thought  he  glanced  oddly  at  Tom,  who  was 
still  lingering  in  attendance,  and  I  even  fan- 
cied he  talked  to  us  ostentatiously  for  his 
benefit.  "  Yes,  it  was  a  row  of  Tournelli's. 
He  was  waiting  at  the  corner  ;  had  rushed  at 
Hays  with  a  knife,  but  had  been  met  with  a 
derringer-shot  through  his  hat.  The  lady, 
who,  it  seems,  was  only  a  chance  steamer  ac- 


fN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT.          241 

quaintance  of  Hays',  thought  the  attack  must 
have  been  meant  for  her,  as  she  had  recog- 
nized in  the  Italian  a  man  who  had  stolen 
from  her  divorced  husband  in  the  States,  two 
years  ago,  and  was  a  fugitive  from  justice. 
At  least  that  was  the  explanation  given  by 
Hays,  for  the  woman  had  fainted  and  been 
driven  off  to  her  hotel  by  the  Quartermaster, 
and  Tournelli  had  escaped.  But  the  Editor 
was  on  his  track.  "  You  did  n't  notice  that 
lady,  Tom,  did  you  ?  " 

Tom  came  out  of  an  abstracted  study,  and 
said  :  "  No,  she  had  her  back  to  me  all  the 
time." 

Manners  regarded  him  steadily  for  a  mo- 
ment without  speaking,  but  in  a  way  that  I 
could  not  help  thinking  was  much  more  em- 
barrassing to  the  bystanders  than  to  him. 
When  we  rose  to  leave,  as  he  placed  his  usual 
gratuity  into  Tom's  hand,  he  said  carelessly, 
"  You  might  drop  into  my  office  to-morrow 
if  you  have  anything  to  tell  me." 

"  I  have  n't,"  said  Tom  quietly. 

"  Then  I  may  have  something  to  tell  you" 

Tom  nodded,  and  turned  away  to  his  duties. 

The  Mining  Secretary  and  myself  could 
scarcely  wait  to  reach  the  street  before  we 
turned  eagerly  on  Manners. 


242         IN  A  PIONEER  RESTAURANT. 

"Well?" 

"  Well ;  the  woman  you  saw  was  Tom's 
runaway  wife,  and  Tournelli  the  man  she 
ran  away  with." 

'*  And  Tom  knew  it  ?  " 

"  Can't  say." 

"  And  you  mean  to  say  that  all  this  while 
Tom  never  suspected  him,  and  even  did  not 
recognize  her  just  now  ?  " 

Manners  lifted  his  hat  and  passed  his  fin- 
gers through  his  hair  meditatively.  "  Ask 
me  something  easier,  gentlemen." 


A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON. 


HER  father's  house  was  nearly  a  mile  from 
the  sea,  but  the  breath  of  it  was  always 
strong  at  the  windows  and  doors  in  the  early 
morning,  and  when  there  were  heavy  "  south- 
westers  "  blowing  in  the  winter,  the  wind 
brought  the  sharp  sting  of  sand  to  her  cheek, 
and  the  rain  an  odd  taste  of  salt  to  her  lips. 
On  this  particular  December  afternoon,  how- 
ever, as  she  stood  in  the  doorway,  it  seemed 
to  be  singularly  calm  ;  the  southwest  trades 
blew  but  faintly,  and  scarcely  broke  the 
crests  of  the  long  Pacific  swell  that  lazily 
rose  and  fell  on  the  beach,  which  only  a 
slanting  copse  of  scrub-oak  and  willow  hid 
from  the  cottage.  Nevertheless,  she  knew 
this  league-long  strip  of  shining  sand  much 
better,  it  is  to  be  feared,  than  the  scanty 
flower-garden,  arid  and  stunted  by  its  con- 
tiguity. It  had  been  her  playground  when 
she  first  came  there,  a  motherless  girl  of 
twelve,  and  she  had  helped  her  father  gather 


244   A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON. 

its  scattered  driftwood  —  as  the  fortunes  of 
the  Millers  were  not  above  accepting  these 
occasional  offerings  of  their  lordly  neighbor. 

"  I  would  n't  go  far  to-day,  Jenny,"  said 
her  father,  as  the  girl  stepped  from  the 
threshold.  "  I  don't  trust  the  weather  at 
this  season ;  and  besides  you  had  better  be 
looking  over  your  wardrobe  for  the  Christ- 
mas Eve  party  at  Sol.  Catlin's." 

"  Why,  father,  you  don't  intend  to  go  to 
that  man's  ?  "  said  the  girl,  looking  up  with 
a  troubled  face. 

"  Lawyer  Miller,"  as  he  was  called  by  his 
few  neighbors,  looked  slightly  embarrassed. 
"  Why  not  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  faintly  irritated 
tone. 

"  Why  not  ?  Why,  father,  you  know  how 
vulgar  and  conceited  he  is,  —  how  every- 
body here  truckles  to  him  !  " 

"  Very  likely  ;  he  's  a  very  superior  man 
of  his  kind,  —  a  kind  they  understand  here, 
too,  —  a  great  trapper,  hunter,  and  pioneer." 

"But  I  don't  believe  in  his  trapping, 
hunting,  and  pioneering,"  said  the  girl,  petu- 
lantly. "I  believe  it's  all  as  hollow  and 
boisterous  as  himself.  It 's  no  more  real,  or 
what  one  thinks  it  should  be,  than  he  is. 
And  he  dares  to  patronize  you  —  you,  father, 
an  educated  man  and  a  gentleman !  " 


A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON.   245 

"  Say  rather  an  unsuccessful  lawyer  who 
was  fool  enough  to  believe  that  buying  a 
ranch  could  make  him  a  farmer,"  returned 
her  father,  but  half  jestingly.  "  I  only  wish 
I  was  as  good  at  my  trade  as  he  is." 

"  But  you  never  liked  him,  —  you  always 
used  to  ignore  him ;  you  've  changed,  fa- 
ther "  —  She  stopped  suddenly,  for  her 
recollection  of  her  father's  quiet  superiority 
and  easy  independence  when  he  first  came 
there  was  in  such  marked  contrast  to  his 
late  careless  and  weak  concession  to  the  rude 
life  around  them,  that  she  felt  a  pang  of 
vague  degradation,  which  she  feared  her 
voice  might  betray. 

"  Very  well !  Do  as  you  like,"  he  replied, 
with  affected  carelessness  ;  "  only  I  thought, 
as  we  cannot  afford  to  go  elsewhere  this 
Christmas,  it  might  be  well  for  us  to  take 
what  we  could  find  here." 

"  Take  what  we  could  find  here  !  "  It 
was  so  unlike  him  —  he  who  had  always  been 
so  strong  in  preserving  their  little  domestic 
refinements  in  their  rude  surroundings,  that 
their  poverty  had  never  seemed  mean,  nor 
their  seclusion  ignoble.  She  turned  away 
to  conceal  her  indignant  color.  She  could 
share  the  household  work  with  a  squaw  and 


246   A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON. 

Chinaman,  she  could  fetch  wood  and  water. 
Catlin  had  patronizingly  seen  her  doing  it, 
but  to  dance  to  his  vulgar  piping  —  never ! 

She  was  not  long  in  reaching  the  sands 
that  now  lay  before  her,  warm,  sweet-scented 
from  short  beach  grass,  stretching  to  a  dim 
rocky  promontory,  and  absolutely  untrod 
by  any  foot  but  her  own.  It  was  this  vir- 
ginity of  seclusion  that  had  been  charming 
to  her  girlhood  ;  fenced  in  between  the  im- 
penetrable hedge  of  scrub-oaks  on  the  one 
side,  and  the  lifting  green  walls  of  breakers 
tipped  with  ckevaux  de  frise  of  white  foam 
on  the  other,  she  had  known  a  perfect  se- 
curity for  her  sports  and  fancies  that  had 
captivated  her  town-bred  instincts  and  na- 
tive fastidiousness.  A  few  white -winged 
sea-birds,  as  proud,  reserved,  and  maiden- 
like as  herself,  had  been  her  only  compan- 
ions. And  it  was  now  the  custodian  of  her 
secret,  —  a  secret  as  innocent  and  childlike 
as  her  previous  youthful  fancies,  —  but  still 
a  secret  known  only  to  herself. 

One  day  she  had  come  upon  the  rotting 
ribs  of  a  wreck  on  the  beach.  Its  distance 
from  the  tide  line,  its  position,  and  its  deep 
imbedding  of  sand,  showed  that  it  was  of 
ancient  origin.  An  omnivorous  reader  of 


A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON.   247 

all  that  pertained  to  the  history  of  Califor- 
nia, Jenny  had  in  fancy  often  sailed  the  seas 
in  one  of  those  mysterious  treasure-ships 
that  had  skirted  the  coast  in  bygone  days, 
and  she  at  once  settled  in  her  inind  that  her 
discovery  was  none  other  than  a  castaway 
Philippine  galleon.  Partly  from  her  re- 
serve, and  partly  from  a  suddenly  conceived 
plan,  she  determined  to  keep  its  existence 
unknown  to  her  father,  as  careful  inquiry 
on  her  part  had  found  it  was  equally  un- 
known to  the  neighbors.  For  this  shy,  im- 
aginative young  girl  of  eighteen  had  con- 
vinced herself  that  it  might  still  contain  a 
part  of  its  old  treasure.  She  would  dig  for 
it  herself,  without  telling  anybody.  If  she 
failed,  no  one  would  know  it ;  if  she  were 
successful,  she  would  surprise  her  father  and 
perhaps  retrieve  their  fortune  by  less  vulgar 
means  than  their  present  toil.  Thanks  to 
the  secluded  locality  and  the  fact  that  she 
was  known  to  spend  her  leisure  moments  in 
wandering  there,  she  could  work  without 
suspicion.  Secretly  conveying  a  shovel  and 
a  few  tools  to  the  spot  the  next  day,  she  set 
about  her  prodigious  task.  As  the  upper 
works  were  gone,  and  the  galleon  not  large, 
in  three  weeks,  working  an  hour  or  two  each 


248   A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON. 

day,  she  had  made  a  deep  excavation  in  the 
stern.     She  had  found  many  curious  things, 

—  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  previous  storms, 

—  but  as  yet,  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  say, 
not  the  treasure. 

To-day  she  was  filled  with  the  vague  hope 
of  making  her  discovery  before  Christmas 
Day.  To  have  been  able  to  take  her  father 
something  on  that  day  —  if  only  a  few  old 
coins  —  the  fruit  of  her  own  unsuspected 
labor  and  intuition  —  not  the  result  of  vul- 
gar barter  or  menial  wage  —  would  have 
been  complete  happiness.  It  was  perhaps  a 
somewhat  visionary  expectation  for  an  edu- 
cated girl  of  eighteen,  but  I  am  writing  of  a 
young  Calif ornian  girl,  who  had  lived  in  the 
fierce  glamour  of  treasure-hunting,  and  in 
whose  sensitive  individuality  some  of  its 
subtle  poison  had  been  instilled.  Howbeit, 
to-day  she  found  nothing.  She  was  sadly 
hiding  her  pick  and  shovel,  as  was  her  cus- 
tom, when  she  discovered  the  fresh  track  of 
an  alien  foot  in  the  sand.  Robinson  Crusoe 
was  not  more  astounded  at  the  savage  foot- 
print than  Jenny  Miller  at  this  damning 
proof  of  the  invasion  of  her  sacred  territory. 
The  footprints  came  from  and  returned  to 
the  copse  of  shrubs.  Some  one  might  have 
seen  her  at  work  ! 


A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON.   249 

But  a  singular  change  in  the  weather, 
overlooked  in  her  excitement,  here  forced 
itself  upon  her.  A  light  film  over  sea  and 
sky,  lifted  only  by  fitful  gusts  of  wind, 
seemed  to  have  suddenly  thickened  until  it 
became  an  opaque  vault,  narrowing  in  cir- 
cumference as  the  wind  increased.  The 
promontory  behind  her  disappeared,  as  if 
swallowed  up,  the  distance  before  her  seemed 
to  contract  ;  the  ocean  at  her  side,  the 
color  of  dull  pewter,  vanished  in  a  sheet  of 
slanting  rain,  and  by  the  time  she  reached 
the  house,  half  running,  half  carried  along 
by  the  quartering  force  of  the  wind,  a  full 
gale  was  blowing. 

It  blew  all  the  evening,  reaching  a  climax 
and  fury  at  past  midnight  that  was  remem- 
bered for  many  years  along  that  coast.  In 
the  midst  of  it  they  heard  the  booming  of 
cannon,  and  then  the  voices  of  neighbors  in 
the  road.  "  There  was,"  said  the  voices,  "  a 
big  steamer  ashore  just  afore  the  house," 
The}'  dressed  quickly  and  ran  out. 

Hugging  the  edge  of  the  copse  to  breathe 
and  evade  the  fury  of  the  wind,  they  strug- 
gled to  the  sands.  At  first,  looking  out  to 
sea,  the  girl  saw  nothing  but  foam.  But, 
following  the  direction  of  a  neighbor's 


250      A  TREASURE  OF  THE   GALLEOtf. 

arm,  for  in  that  wild  tumult  man  alone 
seemed  speechless,  she  saw  directly  before 
her,  so  close  upon  her  that  she  could  have 
thrown  a  pebble  on  board,  the  high  bows  of 
a  ship.  Indeed,  its  very  nearness  gave  her 
the  feeling  that  it  was  already  saved,  and 
its  occasional  heavy  roll  to  leeward,  drunken, 
helpless,  ludicrous,  but  never  awful,  brought 
a  hysteric  laugh  to  her  lips.  But  when  a 
livid  blue  light,  lit  in  the  swinging  top, 
showed  a  number  of  black  objects  clinging 
to  bulwarks  and  rigging,  and  the  sea,  with 
languid,  heavy  cruelty,  pushing  rather  than 
beating  them  away,  one  by  one,  she  knew 
that  Death  was  there. 

The  neighbors,  her  father  with  the  oth- 
ers, had  been  running  hopelessly  to  and  fro, 
or  cowering  in  groups  against  the  copse, 
when  suddenly  they  uttered  a  cry  —  their 
first  —  of  joyful  welcome.  And  with  that 
shout,  the  man  she  most  despised  and  hated, 
Sol.  Catlin,  mounted  on  a  "calico"  mus- 
tang, as  outrageous  and  bizarre  as  himself, 
dashed  among  them. 

In  another  moment,  what  had  been  fear, 
bewilderment,  and  hesitation  was  changed 
to  courage,  confidence,  and  action.  The 
men  pressed  eagerly  around  him,  and  as 


A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON.   251 

eagerly  dispersed  under  his  quick  command. 
Galloping  at  his  heels  was  a  team  with  the 
whale-boat,  brought  from  the  river,  miles 
away.  He  was  here,  there,  and  everywhere  ; 
catching  the  line  thrown  by  the  rocket  from 
the  ship,  marshaling  the  men  to  haul  it  in, 
answering  the  hail  from  those  on  board 
above  the  tempest,  pervading  everything  and 
everybody  with  the  fury  of  the  storm  ;  loud, 
imperious,  domineering,  self -asserting,  all- 
sufficient,  and  successful!  And  when  the 
boat  was  launched,  the  last  mighty  impulse 
came  from  his  shoulder.  He  rode  at  the 
helm  into  the  first  hanging  wall  of  foam, 
erect  and  triumphant !  Dazzled,  bewildered, 
crying  and  laughing,  she  hated  him  more 
than  ever. 

The  boat  made  three  trips,  bringing  off, 
with  the  aid  of  the  hawser,  all  but  the  sail- 
ors she  had  seen  perish  before  her  own  eyes. 
The  passengers,  —  they  were  few,  —  the  cap- 
tain and  officers,  found  refuge  in  her  father's 
house,  and  were  loud  in  their  praises  of  Sol. 
Catlin.  But  in  that  grateful  chorus  a  single 
gloomy  voice  arose,  the  voice  of  a  wealthy 
and  troubled  passenger.  "  I  will  give,"  he 
said,  "five  thousand  dollars  to  the  man  who 
brings  me  a  box  of  securities  I  left  in  my 


252   A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON. 

stateroom."  Every  eye  turned  instinctively 
to  Sol. ;  lie  answered  only  those  of  Jen- 
ny's. "  Say  ten  thousand,  and  if  the  dod- 
blasted  hulk  holds  together  two  hours  longer 
I  '11  do  it,  d — n  me  !  You  hear  me !  My 
name  's  Sol.  Catlin,  and  when  I  say  a  thing, 
by  G — d,  I  do  it."  Jenny's  disgust  here 
reached  its  climax.  The  hero  of  a  night  of 
undoubted  energy  and  courage  had  blotted 
it  out  in  a  single  moment  of  native  vanity 
and  vulgar  avarice. 

He  was  gone  ;  not  only  two  hours,  but  day- 
light had  come  and  they  were  eagerly  seek- 
ing him,  when  he  returned  among  them, 
dripping  and  —  empty-handed.  He  had 
reached  the  ship,  he  said,  with  another ; 
found  the  box,  and  trusted  himself  alone  with 
it  to  the  sea.  But  in  the  surf  he  had  to 
abandon  it  to  save  himself.  It  had  perhaps 
drifted  ashore,  and  might  be  found  ;  for  him- 
self, he  abandoned  his  claim  to  the  reward. 
Had  he  looked  abashed  or  mortified,  Jenny 
felt  that  she  might  have  relented,  but  the 
braggart  was  as  all-satisfied,  as  confident  and 
boastful  as  ever.  Nevertheless,  as  his  eye 
seemed  to  seek  hers,  she  was  constrained, 
in  mere  politeness,  to  add  her  own  to  her 
father's  condolences.  "  I  suppose,"  she  hesi- 


A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON.   253 

tated,  in  passing  him,  "  that  this  is  a  mere 
nothing  to  you  after  all  that  you  did  last 
night  that  was  really  great  and  unselfish." 

"  Were  you  never  disappointed,  Miss  ?  " 
he  said,  with  exasperating  abruptness. 

A  quick  consciousness  of  her  own  thank- 
less labor  on  the  galleon,  and  a  terrible  idea 
that  he  might  have  some  suspicion  of,  and 
perhaps  the  least  suggestion  that  she  might 
have  been  disappointed  in  him,  brought  a 
faint  color  to  her  cheek.  But  she  replied 
with  dignity :  — 

"  I  really  could  n't  say.  But  certainly," 
she  added,  with  a  new-found  pertness,  "  you 
don't  look  it." 

"  Nor  do  you,  Miss,"  was  his  idiotic  an- 
swer. 

A  few  hours  later,  alarmed  at  what  she 
had  heard  of  the  inroads  of  the  sea,  which 
had  risen  higher  than  ever  known  to  the 
oldest  settler,  and  perhaps  mindful  of  yester- 
day's footprints,  she  sought  her  old  secluded 
haunt.  The  wreck  was  still  there,  but  the 
sea  had  reached  it.  The  excavation  between 
its  gaunt  ribs  was  filled  with  drift  and  the 
seaweed  carried  there  by  the  surges  and  en- 
trapped in  its  meshes.  And  there,  too, 
caught  as  in  a  net,  lay  the  wooden  box  of 


254   A  TREASURE  OF  THE  GALLEON. 

securities  Sol.  Catlin  had  abandoned  to  the 
sea. 

This  is  the  story  as  it  was  told  to  me.  The 
singularity  of  coincidences  has  challenged 
some  speculation.  Jenny  insisted  at  the 
time  upon  sharing  the  full  reward  with  Cat- 
lin, but  local  critics  have  pointed  out  that 
from  subsequent  events  this  proved  nothing. 
For  she  had  married  him ! 


OUT  OF  A  PIONEER'S  TRUNK. 


IT  was  a  slightly  cynical,  but  fairly  good- 
humored  crowd  that  had  gathered  before  a 
warehouse  on  Long  Wharf  in  San  Francisco 
one  afternoon  in  the  summer  of  '51.  Al- 
though the  occasion  was  an  auction,  the  bid- 
ders' chances  more  than  usually  hazardous, 
and  the  season  and  locality  famous  for  reck- 
less speculation,  there  was  scarcely  any  ex- 
citement among  the  bystanders,  and  a  lazy, 
half -humorous  curiosity  seemed  to  have  taken 
the  place  of  any  zeal  for  gain. 

It  was  an  auction  of  unclaimed  trunks  and 
boxes  —  the  personal  luggage  of  early  emi- 
grants —  which  had  been  left  on  storage  in 
hulk  or  warehouse  at  San  Francisco,  while 
the  owner  was  seeking  his  fortune  in  the 
mines.  The  difficulty  and  expense  of  trans- 
port, often  obliging  the  gold-seeker  to  make 
part  of  his  journey  on  foot,  restricted  him  to 
the  smallest  impedimenta,  and  that  of  a  kind 


256        OUT  OF  A  PIONEER'S   TRUNK. 

not  often  found  in  the  luggage  of  ordinary 
civilization.  As  a  consequence,  during  the 
emigration  of  '49,  he  was  apt  on  landing 
to  avail  himself  of  the  invitation  usually  dis- 
played on  some  of  the  doors  of  the  rude  hos- 
telries  on  the  shore  :  "  Rest  for  the  Weary 
and  Storage  for  Trunks."  In  a  majority  of 
cases  he  never  returned  to  claim  his  stored 
property.  Enforced  absence,  protracted 
equally  by  good  or  evil  fortune,  accumulated 
the  high  storage  charges  until  they  usually 
far  exceeded  the  actual  value  of  the  goods ; 
sickness,  further  emigration,  or  death  also 
reduced  the  number  of  possible  claimants, 
and  that  more  wonderful  human  frailty  — 
absolute  forge tfulness  of  deposited  posses- 
sions —  combined  together  to  leave  the  bulk 
of  the  property  in  the  custodian's  hands. 
Under  an  understood  agreement  they  were 
always  sold  at  public  auction  after  a  given 
time.  Although  the  contents  of  some  of 
the  trunks  were  exposed,  it  was  found  more 
in  keeping  with  the  public  sentiment  to  sell 
the  trunks  locked  and  unopened.  The  ele- 
ment of  curiosity  was  kept  up  from  time  to 
time  by  the  incautious  disclosures  of  the 
lucky  or  unlucky  purchaser,  and  general 
bidding  thus  encouraged  —  except  when  the 


OUT  OF  A  PIONEER'S   TRUNK.         257 

speculator,  with  the  true  gambling  instinct, 
gave  no  indication  in  his  face  of  what  was 
drawn  in  this  lottery.  Generally,  however, 
some  suggestion  in  the  exterior  of  the  trunk, 
a  label  or  initials ;  some  conjectural  know- 
ledge of  its  former  owner,  or  the  idea  that 
he  might  be  secretly  present  in  the  hope  of 
getting  his  property  back  for  less  than  the 
accumulated  dues,  kept  up  the  bidding  and 
interest. 

A  modest-looking,  well-worn  portmanteau 
had  been  just  put  up  at  a  small  opening  bid, 
when  Harry  Flint  joined  the  crowd.  The 
young  man  had  arrived  a  week  before  at  San 
Francisco  friendless  and  penniless,  and  had 
been  forced  to  part  with  his  own  effects  to 
procure  necessary  food  and  lodging  while 
looking  for  an  employment.  In  the  irony  of 
fate  that  morning  the  proprietors  of  a  dry- 
goods  store,  struck  with  his  good  looks  and 
manners,  had  offered  him  a  situation,  if  he 
could  make  himself  more  presentable  to  their 
fair  clients.  Harry  Flint  was  gazing  half 
abstractedly,  half  hopelessly,  at  the  portman- 
teau without  noticing  the  auctioneer's  per- 
suasive challenge.  In  his  abstraction  he 
was  not  aware  that  the  auctioneer's  assistant 
was  also  looking  at  him  curiously,  and  that 


258        OUT  OF  A  PIONEER'S   TRUNK. 

possibly  his  dejected  and  half-clad  appear- 
ance had  excited  the  attention  of  one  of  the 
cynical  bystanders,  who  was  exchanging  a 
few  words  with  the  assistant.  He  was,  how- 
ever, recalled  to  himself  a  moment  later 
when  the  portmanteau  was  knocked  down 
at  fifteen  dollars,  and  considerably  startled 
when  the  assistant  placed  it  at  his  feet  with 
a  grim  smile.  "  That 's  your  property,  Fow- 
ler, and  I  reckon  you  look  as  if  you  wanted 
it  back  bad." 

"  But —  there 's  some  mistake,"  stammered 
Hint.  "I  did  n't  bid." 

"  No,  but  Tom  Flynn  did  for  you.  You 
see,  I  spotted  you  from  the  first,  and  told 
Flynn  I  reckoned  you  were  one  of  those 
chaps  who  came  back  from  the  mines  dead 
broke.  And  he  up  and  bought  your  things 
for  you  —  like  a  square  man.  That  's 
Flynn's  style,  if  he  is  a  gambler." 

"  But,"  persisted  Flint,  "  this  never  was 
my  property.  My  name  is  n't  Fowler,  and 
I  never  left  anything  here." 

The  assistant  looked  at  him  with  a  grim, 
half-credulous,  half-scornful  smile.  u  Have 
it  your  own  way,"  he  said,  "  but  I  oughter 
tell  ye,  old  man,  that  I  'm  the  warehouse 
clerk,  and  I  remember  you.  I  'm  here  for 


OUT  OF  A  PIONEER'S   TRUNK.         259 

that  purpose.  But  as  that  thar  valise  is 
bought  and  paid  for  by  somebody  else  and 
given  to  you,  it 's  nothing  more  to  me.  Take 
it  or  leave  it." 

The  ridiculousness  of  quarreling  over  the 
mere  form  of  his  good  fortune  here  struck 
Flint,  and,  as  his  abrupt  benefactor  had  as 
abruptly  disappeared,  he  hurried  off  with  his 
prize.  Beaching  his  cheap  lodging-house,  he 
examined  its  contents.  As  he  had  surmised, 
it  contained  a  full  suit  of  clothing  of  the 
better  sort,  and  suitable  to  his  urban  needs. 
There  were  a  few  articles  of  jewelry,  which 
he  put  religiously  aside.  There  were  some 
letters,  which  seemed  to  be  of  a  purely  busi- 
ness character.  There  were  a  few  daguer- 
reotypes of  pretty  faces,  one  of  which  was 
singularly  fascinating  to  him.  But  there 
was  another,  of  a  young  man,  which  star- 
tled him  with  its  marvelous  resemblance 
to  himself!  In  a  flash  of  intelligence  he 
understood  it  all  now.  It  was  the  likeness 
of  the  former  owner  of  the  trunk,  for  whom 
the  assistant  had  actually  mistaken  him ! 
He  glanced  hurriedly  at  the  envelopes  of 
the  letters.  They  were  addressed  to  Shelby 
Fowler,  the  name  by  which  the  assistant 
had  just  called  him.  The  mystery  was 


260          OUT   OF  A  PIONEER'S    TRUNK. 

plain  now.  And  for  the  present  he  could 
fairly  accept  his  good  luck,  and  trust  to  later 
fortune  to  justify  himself. 

Transformed  in  his  new  garb,  he  left  his 
lodgings  to  present  himself  once  more  to  his 
possible  employer.  His  way  led  past  one  of 
the  large  gambling  saloons.  It  was  yet  too 
early  to  find  the  dry-goods  trader  disengaged  ; 
perhaps  the  consciousness  of  more  decent, 
civilized  garb  emboldened  him  to  mingle 
more  freely  with  strangers,  and  he  entered 
the  saloon.  He  was  scarcely  abreast  of  one 
of  the  faro  tables  when  a  man  suddenly  leaped 
up  with  an  oath  and  discharged  a  revolver 
full  in  his  face.  The  shot  missed.  Before 
his  unknown  assailant  could  fire  again  the 
astonished  Flint  had  closed  with  him,  and 
instinctively  clutched  the  weapon.  A  brief 
but  violent  struggle  ensued.  Flint  felt  his 
strength  failing  him,  when  suddenly  a  look 
of  astonishment  came  into  the  furious  eyes 
of  his  adversary,  and  the  man's  grasp  me- 
chanically relaxed.  The  half -freed  pistol, 
thrown  upwards  by  this  movement,  was  ac- 
cidentally discharged  point  blank  into  his 
temples,  and  he  fell  dead.  No  one  in  the 
crowd  had  stirred  or  interfered. 

"You've  done  for   Australian    Pete  this 


OUT  OF  A  PIONEERS   TRUNK.         261 

time,  Mr.  Fowler,"  said  a  voice  at  his  elbow. 
He  turned  gaspingly  and  recognized  his 
strange  benefactor,  Flynn.  "  I  call  you  all 
to  witness,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  gam- 
bler, turning  dictatorially  to  the  crowd, 
"  that  this  man  was  first  attacked  and  was 
unarmed"  He  lifted  Flint's  limp  and 
empty  hands  and  then  pointed  to  the  dead 
man,  who  was  still  grasping  the  weapon. 
"  Come !  "  He  caught  the  half-paralyzed 
arm  of  Flint  and  dragged  him  into  the 
street. 

"  But,"  stammered  the  horrified  Flint,  as 
he  was  borne  along,  "what  does  it  all  mean? 
What  made  that  man  attack  me  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  it  was  a  case  of  shooting  on 
sight,  Mr.  Fowler ;  but  he  missed  it  by  not 
waiting  to  see  if  you  were  armed.  It  wasn't 
the  square  thing,  and  you  're  all  right  with 
the  crowd  now,  whatever  he  might  have  had 
agin'  you." 

"  But,"  protested  the  unhappy  Flint,  "  I 
never  laid  eyes  on  the  man  before,  and  my 
name  is  n't  Fowler." 

Flynn  halted,  and  dragged  him  in  a  door 
way.  "  Who  the  devil  are  you  ?  "  he  asked 
roughly. 

Briefly,  passionately,  almost  hysterically, 


262         OUT  OF  A  PIONEER'S   TRUNK. 

Flint  told  him  his  scant  story.  An  odd  ex- 
pression came  over  the  gambler's  face. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  I  have 
passed  my  word  to  the  crowd  yonder  that 
you  are  a  dead-broke  miner  called  Fowler. 
I  allowed  that  you  might  have  had  some  row 
with  that  Sydney  duck,  Australian  Pete,  in 
the  mines.  That  satisfied  them.  If  I  go 
back  now,  and  say  it 's  a  lie,  that  your  name 
ain't  Fowler,  and  you  never  knew  who  Pete 
was,  they  '11  jest  pass  you  over  to  the  police 
to  deal  with  you,  and  wash  their  hands  of 
it  altogether.  You  may  prove  to  the  police 
who  you  are,  and  how  that  d clerk  mis- 
took you,  but  it  will  give  you  trouble.  And 
who  is  there  here  who  knows  who  you  really 
are?" 

44  No  one,"  said  Flint,  with  sudden  hope- 
lessness. 

"  And  you  say  you're  an  orphan,  and  ain't 
got  any  relations  livin'  that  you  're  beholden 
to?" 

"  No  one." 

"Then,  take  my  advice,  and  be  Fowler, 
and  stick  to  it !  Be  Fowler  until  Fowler 
turns  up,  and  thanks  you  for  it ;  for  you  Ve 
saved  Fowler's  life,  as  Pete  would  never 
have  funked  and  lost  his  grit  over  Fowler  as 


OUT  OF  A  PIONEER'S   TRUNK.         263 

he  did  with  you ;  and  you  Ve  a  right  to  his 
name." 

He  stopped,  and  the  same  odd,  supersti- 
tious look  came  into  his  dark  eyes. 

"Don't  you  see  what  all  that  means? 
Well,  I  '11  tell  you.  You  're  in  the  biggest 
streak  of  luck  a  man  ever  had.  You  Ve  got 
the  cards  in  your  own  hand !  They  spell 
"  Fowler  "  !  Play  Fowler  first,  last,  and  all 
the  time.  Good-night,  and  good  luck,  Mr. 
Fowler." 

The  next  morning's  journal  contained  an 
account  of  the  justifiable  killing  of  the  noto- 
rious desperado  and  ex-convict,  Australian 
Pete,  by  a  courageous  young  miner  by  the 
name  of  Fowler.  "  An  act  of  firmness  and 
daring,"  said  the  "  Pioneer,"  "  which  will  go 
far  to  counteract  the  terrorism  produced  by 
those  lawless  ruffians." 

In  his  new  suit  of  clothes,  and  with  this 
paper  in  his  hand,  Flint  sought  the  dry- 
goods  proprietor  —  the  latter  was  satisfied 
and  convinced.  That  morning  Harry  Flint 
began  his  career  as  salesman  and  as  "  Shelby 
Fowler." 

From  that  day  Shelby  Fowler's  career  was 
one  of  uninterrupted  prosperity.  Within 


264         OUT  OF  A   PIONEER'S   TRUNK. 

the  year  he  became  a  partner.  The  same 
miraculous  fortune  followed  other  ventures 
later.  He  was  mill  owner,  mine  owner,  bank 
director  —  a  millionaire  !  He  was  popular, 
the  reputation  of  his  brief  achievement  over 
the  desperado  kept  him  secure  from  the  at- 
tack of  envy  and  rivalry.  He  never  was 
confronted  by  the  real  Fowler.  There  was 
no  danger  of  exposure  by  others  —  the  one 
custodian  of  his  secret,  Tom  Flynn,  died  in 
Nevada  the  year  following.  He  had  quite 
forgotten  his  youthful  past,  and  even  the 
more  recent  lucky  portmanteau  ;  remem- 
bered nothing,  perhaps,  but  the  pretty  face 
of  the  daguerreotype  that  had  fascinated 
him.  There  seemed  to  be  no  reason  why  he 
should  not  live  and  die  as  Shelby  Fowler. 

His  business  a  year  later  took  him  to  Eu- 
rope. He  was  entering  a  train  at  one  of  the 
great  railway  stations  of  London,  when  the 
porter,  who  had  just  deposited  his  portman- 
teau in  a  compartment,  reappeared  at  the 
window  followed  by  a  young  lady  in  mourn- 
ing. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  handed  you  the 
wrong  portmanteau.  That  belongs  to  this 
young  lady.  This  is  yours." 

Flint  glanced  at  the  portmanteau  on  tho 


OUT  OF  A  PIONEERS   TRUNK.         265 

seat  before  him.  It  certainly  was  not  his, 
although  it  bore  the  initials  "  S.  F."  He 
was  mechanically  handing  it  back  to  the 
porter,  when  his  eyes  fell  on  the  young  lady's 
face.  For  an  instant  he  stood  petrified.  It 
was  the  face  of  the  daguerreotype.  "  I  beg 
pardon,"  he  stammered,  "  but  are  these  your 
initials  ? "  She  hesitated,  perhaps  it  was 
the  abruptness  of  the  question,  but  he  saw 
she  looked  confused. 

"  No.     A  friend's." 

She  disappeared  into  another  carriage,  but 
from  that  moment  Harry  Flint  knew  that  he 
had  no  other  aim  in  life  but  to  follow  this 
clue  and  the  beautiful  girl  who  had  dropped 
it.  He  bribed  the  guard  at  the  next  station, 
and  discovered  that  she  was  going  to  York. 
On  their  arrival,  he  was  ready  on  the  plat- 
form to  respectfully  assist  her.  A  few 
words  disclosed  the  fact  that  she  was  a  fel- 
low-countrywoman, although  residing  in 
England,  and  at  present  on  her  way  to  join 
some  friends  at  Harrogate.  Her  name  was 
West.  At  the  mention  of  his,  he  again  fan- 
cied she  looked  disturbed. 

They  met  again  and  again  ;  the  informal- 
ity of  his  introduction  was  overlooked  by 
her  friends,  as  his  assumed  name  was  already 


266         OUT  OF  A  PIONEERS  TRUNK. 

respectably  and  responsibly  known  beyond 
California.  He  thought  no  more  of  his  fu- 
ture. He  was  in  love.  He  even  dared  to 
think  it  might  be  returned ;  but  he  felt  he 
had  no  right  to  seek  that  knowledge  until 
he  had  told  her  his  real  name  and  how  he 
came  to  assume  another's.  He  did  so  alone 
—  scarcely  a  month  after  their  first  meeting. 
To  his  alarm,  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears, 
and  showed  an  agitation  that  seemed  far  be- 
yond any  apparent  cause.  When  she  had 
partly  recovered,  she  said,  in  a  low,  fright- 
ened voice :  — 

"You  are  bearing  my  brother's  name. 
But  it  was  a  name  that  the  unhappy  boy 
had  so  shamefully  disgraced  in  Australia 
that  he  abandoned  it,  and,  as  he  lay  upon 
his  death-bed,  the  last  act  of  his  wasted  life 
was  to  write  an  imploring  letter  begging  me 
to  change  mine  too.  For  the  infamous 
companion  of  his  crime  who  had  first 
tempted,  then  betrayed  him,  had  possession 
of  all  his  papers  and  letters,  many  of  them 
from  me,  and  was  threatening  to  bring  them 
to  our  Virginia  home  and  expose  him  to  our 
neighbors.  Maddened  by  desperation,  the 
miserable  boy  twice  attempted  the  life  of 
the  scoundrel,  and  might  have  added  that 


OUT  OF  A  PIONEER'S   TRUNK.         267 

blood  guiltiness  to  his  other  sins  had  he 
lived.  I  did  change  my  name  to  my  mo- 
ther's maiden  one,  left  the  country,  and 
have  lived  here  to  escape  the  revelations  of 
that  desperado,  should  he  fulfill  his  threat." 

In  a  flash  of  recollection  Flint  remem- 
bered the  startled  look  that  had  come  into 
his  assailant's  eye  after  they  had  clinched. 
It  was  the  same  man  who  had  too  late  real- 
ized that  his  antagonist  was  not  Fowler. 
"  Thank  God !  you  are  forever  safe  from 
any  exposure  from  that  man,"  he  said, 
gravely,  "  and  the  name  of  Fowler  has  never 
been  known  in  San  Francisco  save  in  all 
respect  and  honor.  It  is  for  you  to  take 
back  —  fearlessly  and  alone !  " 

She  did  —  but  not  alone,  for  she  shared 
it  with  her  husband. 


THE  GHOSTS  OF  STUKELEY 
CASTLE. 


THEKE  should  have  been  snow  on  the 
ground  to  make  the  picture  seasonable  and 
complete,  but  the  Western  Barbarian  had 
lived  long  enough  in  England  to  know  that, 
except  in  the  pages  of  a  holiday  supplement, 
this  was  rarely  the  accompaniment  of  a 
Christmas  landscape,  and  he  cheerfully  ac- 
cepted, on  the  24th  of  December,  the  back- 
ground of  a  low,  brooding  sky,  on  which  the 
delicate  tracery  of  leafless  sprays  and  blacker 
ehevaux  defrise  of  pine  was  faintly  etched, 
as  a  consistent  setting  to  the  turrets  and 
peacefully  stacked  chimneys  of  Stukeley  Cas- 
tle. Yet,  even  in  this  disastrous  eclipse  of 
color  and  distance,  the  harmonious  outlines 
of  the  long,  gray,  irregular  pile  seemed  to 
him  as  wonderful  as  ever.  It  still  domi- 
nated the  whole  landscape,  and,  as  he  had 
often  fancied,  carried  this  subjection  even 


THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE.    269 

to  the  human  beings  who  had  created  it, 
lived  in  it,  but  which  it  seemed  to  have  in 
some  dull,  senile  way  dozed  over  and  forgot- 
ten. He  vividly  recalled  the  previous  sun- 
shine of  an  autumnal  house  party  within  its 
walls,  where  some  descendants  of  its  old  cas- 
tellans, encountered  in  long  galleries  or  at 
the  very  door  of  their  bedrooms,  looked  as 
alien  to  the  house  as  the  Barbarian  himself. 
For  the  rest  it  may  be  found  described  in 
the  local  guide-books,  with  a  view  of  its 
"  South  Front,"  "  West  Front,"  and  "  Great 
Quadrangle."  It  was  alleged  to  be  based 
on  an  encampment  of  the  Romans  —  that 
highly  apocryphal  race  who  seemed  to  have 
spent  their  time  in  getting  up  picnics  on 
tessellated  pavements,  where,  after  hilari- 
ously emptying  their  pockets  of  their  loose 
coin  and  throwing  round  their  dishes,  they 
instantly  built  a  road  to  escape  by,  leaving 
no  other  record  of  their  existence.  Stow 
and  Dugdale  had  recorded  the  date  when  a 
Norman  favorite  obtained  the  royal  license 
to  "  embattle  it ; "  it  had  done  duty  on 
Christmas  cards  with  the  questionable  snow 
already  referred  to  laid  on  thickly  in  crys- 
tal ;  it  had  been  lovingly  portrayed  by  a 
fair  countrywoman  —  the  vivacious  corre- 


270     THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE. 

spondent  of  the  "  East  Machias  Sentinel "  — 
in  a  combination  of  the  most  delightful  fem- 
inine disregard  of  facts  with  the  highest 
feminine  respect  for  titles.  It  was  rich  in  a 
real  and  spiritual  estate  of  tapestries,  paint- 
ings, armor,  legends,  and  ghosts.  Every- 
thing the  poet  could  wish  for,  and  indeed 
some  things  that  decent  prose  might  have 
possibly  wished  out  of  it,  were  there. 

Yet,  from  the  day  that  it  had  been  forci- 
bly seized  by  a  Parliamentary  General,  until 
more  recently,  when  it  had  passed  by  the  no 
less  desperate  conveyance  of  marriage  into 
the  hands  of  a  Friendly  Nobleman  known  to 
the  Western  Barbarian,  it  had  been  supposed 
to  suggest  something  or  other  more  remark- 
able than  itself.  "  Few  spectators,"  said  the 
guide-book,  "  even  the  most  unimpassioned, 
can  stand  in  the  courtyard  and  gaze  upon 
those  historic  walls  without  feeling  a  thrill 
of  awe,"  etc.  The  Western  Barbarian  had 
stood  there,  gazed,  and  felt  no  thrill.  "  The 
privileged  guest,"  said  the  grave  historian, 
"  passing  in  review  the  lineaments  of  the  il- 
lustrious owners  of  Stukeley,  as  he  slowly 
paces  the  sombre  gallery,  must  be  conscious 
of  emotions  of  no  ordinary  character,"  etc., 
etc.  The  Barbarian  had  been  conscious  of 


THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE.    271 

no  such  emotions.  And  it  was  for  this  rea- 
son, and  believing  he  might  experience  them 
if  left  there  in  solitude,  with  no  distracting  or 
extraneous  humanity  around  him,  it  had  been 
agreed  between  him  and  the  Friendly  Noble- 
man, who  had  fine  Barbarian  instincts,  that 
as  he — the  Friendly  Nobleman  —  and  his 
family  were  to  spend  their  holidays  abroad, 
the  Barbarian  should  be  allowed,  on  the  eve 
and  day  of  Christmas,  to  stay  at  Stukeley 
alone.  "But,"  added  his  host,  "  you'll  find 
it  beastly  lonely,  and  although  I  've  told  the 
housekeeper  to  look  after  you  —  you  'd  bet- 
ter go  over  to  dine  at  Audley  Friars,  where 
there's  a  big  party,  and  they  know  you, 
and  it  will  be  a  deuced  deal  more  amusing. 
And  —  er  —  I  say  —  you  know  —  you  're 
really  not  looking  out  for  ghosts,  and  that 
sort  of  thing,  are  you  ?  You  know  you  fel- 
lows don't  believe  in  them  —  over  there." 
And  the  Barbarian,  assuring  him  that  this 
was  a  part  of  his  deficient  emotions,  it  was 
settled  then  and  there  that  he  should  come. 
And  that  was  why,  on  the  24th  of  December, 
the  Barbarian  found  himself  gazing  hope- 
fully on  the  landscape  with  his  portmanteau 
at  his  feet,  as  he  drove  up  the  avenue. 
The  ravens  did  not  croak  ominously  from 


272    THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELET  CASTLE. 

the  battlements  as  he  entered.  And  the 
housekeeper,  although  neither  "  stately  "  nor 
"tall,"  nor  full  of  reminiscences  of  "his 
late  lordship,  the  present  Earl's  father,"  was 
very  sensible  and  practical.  The  Barbarian 
could,  of  course,  have  his  choice  of  rooms  — 
but  —  she  had  thought  —  remembering  his 
tastes  the  last  time,  that  the  long  blue  room  ? 
Exactly !  The  long,  low-arched  room,  with 
the  faded  blue  tapestry,  looking  upon  the 
gallery  —  capital !  He  had  always  liked 
that  room.  From  purely  negative  evidence 
he  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  it  was 
the  one  formidable-looking  room  in  England 
that  Queen  Elizabeth  had  not  slept  in. 

When  the  footman  had  laid  out  his  clothes, 
and  his  step  grew  fainter  along  the  passage, 
until  it  was  suddenly  swallowed  up  with  the 
closing  of  a  red  baize  door  in  the  turret  stair- 
case, like  a  trap  in  an  oubliette,  the  whole 
building  seemed  to  sink  back  into  repose. 
Quiet  it  certainly  was,  but  not  more  so,  he 
remembered,  than  when  the  chambers  on 
either  side  were  filled  with  guests,  and  float- 
ing voices  in  the  corridor  were  lost  in  those 
all-absorbing  walls.  So  far,  certainly,  this 
was  no  new  experience.  It  was  past  four. 
He  waited  for  the  shadows  to  gather.  Light 


J 


THE   GHOSTS  OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE.    273 

thickened  beyond  his  windows ;  gradually 
the  outflanking  wall  and  part  of  a  projecting 
terrace  crumbled  away  in  the  darkness,  as 
if  Night  were  slowly  reducing  the  castle. 
The  figures  on  the  tapestry  in  his  room 
stood  out  faintly.  The  gallery,  seen  through 
his  open  door,  barred  with  black  spaces  be- 
tween the  mullioned  windows,  presently  be- 
came obliterated,  as  if  invaded  by  a  dull 
smoke  from  without.  But  nothing  moved, 
nothing  glimmered.  Really  this  might  be- 
come in  time  very  stupid. 

He  was  startled,  however,  while  dressing, 
to  see  from  his  windows  that  the  great  ban- 
queting hall  was  illuminated,  but  on  coming 
down  was  amused  to  find  his  dinner  served 
on  a  small  table  in  its  oaken  solitude  lit  by 
the  large  electric  chandelier  —  for  Stukeley 
Castle  under  its  present  lord  had  all  the 
modern  improvements  —  shining  on  the  tat- 
tered banners  and  glancing  mail  above  him. 
It  was  evidently  the  housekeeper's  reading 
of  some  written  suggestion  of  her  noble  mas- 
ter. The  Barbarian,  in  a  flash  of  instinct, 
imagined  the  passage  :  — 

"  Humor  him  as  a  harmless  lunatic ;  the 
plate  is  quite  safe." 

Declining  the  further  offer  of  an  illumina- 


274    THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE. 

tion'of  the  picture  gallery,  grand  drawing- 
room,  ball-room,  and  chapel,  a  few  hours 
later  he  found  himself  wandering  in  the 
corridor  with  a  single  candle  and  a  growing 
conviction  of  the  hopelessness  of  his  experi- 
ment. The  castle  had  as  yet  yielded  to  him 
nothing  that  he  had  not  seen  before  in  the 
distraction  of  company  and  the  garishness  of 
day.  It  was  becoming  a  trifle  monotonous. 
Yet  fine  —  exceedingly ;  and  now  that  a 
change  of  wind  had  lifted  the  fog,  and  the 
full  moon  shone  on  the  lower  half  of  the 
pictures  of  the  gallery,  starting  into  the  most 
artificial  simulation  of  life  a  number  of  Van 
Dyke  legs,  farthingales,  and  fingers  that 
would  have  deceived  nobody,  it  seemed  gra- 
cious, gentle,  and  innocent  beyond  expres- 
sion. Wandering  down  the  gallery,  con- 
scious of  being  more  like  a  ghost  than  any  of 
the  painted  figures,  and  that  they  might  rea- 
sonably object  to  him,  he  wished  he  could 
meet  the  original  of  one  of  those  pictured  gal- 
lants and  secretly  compare  his  fingers  with 
the  copy.  He  remembered  an  embroidered 
pair  of  gloves  in  a  cabinet  and  a  suit  of  armor 
on  the  wall  that,  in  measurement,  did  not 
seem  to  bear  out  the  delicacy  of  the  one  nor 
the  majesty  of  the  other.  It  occurred  to  him 


THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE.    275 

also  to  satisfy  a  yearning  he  had  once  felt  to 
try  on  a  certain  breastplate  and  steel  cap 
that  hung  over  an  oaken  settle.  It  will  be 
perceived  that  he  was  getting  a  good  deal 
bored.  For  thus  caparisoned  he  listlessly, 
and,  as  will  be  seen,  imprudently,  allowed 
himself  to  sink  back  into  a  very  modern  chair, 
and  give  way  to  a  dreamy  cogitation. 

What  possible  interest  could  the  dead  have 
in  anything  that  was  here  ?  Admitting  that 
they  had  any,  and  that  it  was  not  the  living, 
whom  the  Barbarian  had  always  found  most 
inclined  to  haunt  the  past,  would  not  a 
ghost  of  any  decided  convictions  object  to 
such  a  collection  as  his  descendant  had 
gathered  in  this  gallery?  Yonder  idiot  in 
silk  and  steel  had  blunderingly  and  cruelly 
persecuted  his  kinsman  in  leather  and  steel 
only  a  few  panels  distant.  Would  they  care 
to  meet  here  ?  And  if  their  human  weak- 
nesses had  died  with  them,  what  would  bring 
them  here  at  all  ?  And  if  not  them  —  who 
then  ?  He  stopped  short.  The  door  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  gallery  had  opened !  Not 
stealthily,  not  noiselessly,  but  in  an  ordi- 
nary fashion,  and  a  number  of  figures, 
dressed  in  the  habiliments  of  a  bygone  age, 
came  trooping  in.  They  did  not  glide  in  nor 


276     THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE. 

float  in,  but  trampled  in  awkwardly,  clum- 
sily, and  unfamiliarly,  gaping  about  them  as 
they  walked.  At  the  head  was  apparently  a 
steward  in  a  kind  of  livery,  who  stopped  once 
or  twice  and  seemed  to  be  pointing  out  and 
explaining  certain  objects  in  the  room.  A 
flash  of  indignant  intelligence  filled  the  brain 
of  the  Barbarian  !  It  seemed  absurd  I  — 
impossible  !  —  but  it  was  true  !  It  was  a 
holiday  excursion  party  of  ghosts,  being 
shown  over  Stukeley  Castle  by  a  ghostly 
Cicerone!  And  as  his  measured,  monoto- 
nous voice  rose  on  the  Christmas  morning 
air,  it  could  be  heard  that  he  was  actually 
showing  off,  not  the  antiquities  of  the  Castle, 
but  the  modern  improvements  ! 

"  This  'ere,  gossips,"  —  the  Barbarian  in- 
stantly detected  the  fallacy  of  all  the  so- 
called  mediaeval  jargon  he  had  read,  —  "  is 
the  Helectric  Bell,  which  does  away  with 
our  hold,  hordinary  'orn  blowin',  and  the 
hattendant  waitin'  in  the  'all  for  the  usual 
'  Without  there,  who  waits  ? '  which  all  of 
us  was  accustomed  to  in  mortal  flesh.  You 
hobserve  this  button.  I  press  it  so,  and  it 
instantly  rings  a  bell  in  the  kitchen  'all,  and 
shows  in  fair  letters  the  name  of  this  'ere 
gallery  —  as  we  will  see  later.  Will  hany 


THE  GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE.    277 

good  dame  or  gaffer  press  the  button  ? 
Will  yew,  mistress  ?  "  said  the  Cicerone  to  a 
giggling,  kerchief-coifed  lass. 

"  Oi  soy,  Maudlin  !  —  look  out  —  will  yer  I 
—  It 's  the  soime  old  gag  as  them  blootnin' 
knobs  you  ketched  hold  of  when  yer  was 
'ere  las'  Whitsuntide,"  called  out  the  medi- 
aeval 'Arry  of  the  party. 

"  It  is  not  the  Galvanic-Magnetic  machine 
in  'is  lordship's  library,"  said  the  Cicerone, 
severely,  "  which  is  a  mere  toy  for  infants, 
and  hold-fashioned.  And  we  have  'ere  a 
much  later  invention.  I  open  this  little 
door,  I  turn  this  'andle  —  called  a  switch  — 
and,  has  you  perceive,  the  gallery  is  hin- 
stantly  hilluminated." 

There  was  a  hoarse  cry  of  astonishment 
from  the  assemblage.  The  Barbarian  felt 
an  awful  thrill  as  this  searching,  insufferable 
light  of  the  nineteenth  century  streamed  sud- 
denly upon  the  up-turned,  vacant-eyed,  and 
dull  faces  of  those  sightseers  of  the  past. 
But  there  was  no  responsive  gleam  in  their 
eyes. 

"  It  be  the  sun,"  gasped  an  old  woman  in 
a  gray  cloak. 

"  Toime  to  rouse  out,  Myryan,  and  make 
the  foire,"  said  the  mediaeval  'Arry.  The 
custodian  smiled  with  superior  toleration. 


278     THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY   CASTLE. 

"  But  what  do  'ee  want  o'  my  old  lan- 
thorne,"  asked  a  yellow-jerkined  stable  boy, 
pointing  to  an  old-fashioned  horned  lan- 
tern, tempus  Edward  III.,  "  with  this  brave 
bight  ?  " 

"You  know,"  said  the  custodian,  with 
condescending  familiarity,  "these  mortals 
worship  what  they  call  '  curios '  and  the 
'  antique,'  and  'is  lordship  gave  a  matter  of 
fifty  pounds  for  that  same  lanthern.  That 's 
what  the  modern  folk  come  'ere  to  see  — 
like  as  ye." 

"  Oi  've  an  old  three-legged  stool  in  White- 
chapel  oi  '11  let  his  lordship  'ave  cheap  — 
for  five  quid,"  suggested  the  humorist. 

"  The  'prentice  wight  knows  not  that  he 
speaks  truly.  For  'ere  is  a  braver  jest  than 
'is.  Good  folks,  wilt  please  ye  to  examine 
yon  coffer  ?  "  pointing  to  an  oaken  chest. 

"  'T  is  but  poor  stuff,  marry,"  said  Maud- 
lin. 

"  'T  is  a  coffer  —  the  same  being  made  in 
Wardour  Street  last  year  —  'is  lordship 
gave  one  hundred  pounds  for  it.  Look  at 
these  would-be  worm-holes,  —  but  they  were 
made  with  an  auger.  Marry,  we  know  what 
worm-holes  are  ! " 

A  ghastly  grin  spread  over  the  faces  of 


THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE.    279 

the    spectral    assembly    as    they    gathered 
around  the  chest  with  silent  laughter. 

"  Wilt  walk  'ere  and  see  the  phonograph 
in  the  libry,  made  by  Hedison,  an  Hameri- 
can,  which  bottles  up  the  voice  and  pre- 
serves it  fresh  for  a  hundred  years  ?  'T  is 
a  rare  new  fancy." 

"  Rot,"  said  'Arry.  Then  turning  to  the 
giggling  Maudlin,  he  whispered :  "  Saw  it 
las'  toiine.  'Is  lordship  got  a  piece  o'  moy 
moind  that  oi  reeled  off  into  it  about  this 
'ere  swindle.  Fawncy  that  old  bloke  there 
charging  a  tanner  apiece  to  us  for  chaffin' 
a  bit  of  a  barrel." 

"  Have  you  no  last  new  braveries  to  show 
us  of  the  gallants  and  their  mistresses,  as 
you  were  wont  ?  "  said  Maudlin  to  the  Cice- 
rone. "  'T  was  a  rare  show  last  time  —  the 
modish  silk  gowns  and  farthingales  in  the 
closets." 

"But  there  be  no  company  this  Christ- 
mas," said  the  custodian,  "  and  'is  lordship 
does  not  entertain,  unless  it  be  the  new  fool 
'is  lordship  sent  down  'ere  to-day,  who  has 
been  mopin'  and  moonin'  in  the  corridors, 
as  is  ever  the  way  of  these  wittol  creatures 
when  they  are  not  heeded.  He  was  'ere  in  a 
rare  motley  of  his  own  choosing,  with  which 


280    THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE. 

he  thinks  to  raise  a  laugh,  a  moment  ago. 
Ye  see  him  not  —  not  'avin'  the  gift  that 
belongs  by  right  to  my  dread  office.  'T  is 
a  weird  privilege  I  have  —  and  may  not  be 
imparted  to  others  —  save  "  — 

"  Save  what,  good  man  steward  ?  Prithee, 
speak?  "  said  Marian  earnestly. 

"  5T  is  ever  a  shillin'  extra." 

There  was  no  response.  A  few  of  the 
more  bashful  ghosts  thrust  their  hands  in 
their  pockets  and  looked  awkwardly  another 
way.  The  Barbarian  felt  a  momentary  re- 
lief followed  by  a  slight  pang  of  mortified 
vanity.  He  was  a  little  afraid  of  them. 
The  price  was  an  extortion,  certainly,  but 
surely  he  was  worth  the  extra  shilling  ! 

"He  has  brought  but  little  braveries  of 
attire  into  the  Castle,"  continued  the  Cice- 
rone, "  but  I  'ave  something  'ere  which  was 
found  on  the  top  of  his  portmanteau.  I  wot 
ye  know  not  the  use  of  this."  To  the  Bar- 
barian's intense  indignation,  the  Cicerone 
produced,  from  under  his,  his  (the  Barba- 
rian's) own  opera  hat.  "  Marry,  what  should 
be  this?  Read  me  this  riddle!  To  it  — 
and  unyoke!  " 

A  dozen  vacant  guesses  were  made  as  the 
showman  held  it  aloft.  Then  with  a  con- 


TEE   GHOSTS  OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE.    281 

juror's  gesture  he  suddenly  placed  his  thumbs 
within  the  rim,  released  the  spring  and  ex- 
tended the  hat.  The  assembly  laughed  again 
silently  as  before. 

"  'T  is  a  hat,"  said  the  Cicerone,  with  a 
superior  air. 

"Nay,"  said  Maudlin,  "give  it  here." 
She  took  it  curiously,  examined  it,  and  then 
with  a  sudden  coquettish  movement  lifted  it 
towards  her  own  coifed  head,  as  if  to  try  it 
on.  The  Cicerone  suddenly  sprang  forward 
with  a  despairing  gesture  to  prevent  her. 
And  here  the  Barbarian  was  conscious  of  a 
more  startling  revelation.  How  and  why  he 
could  not  tell,  but  he  knew  that  the  putting 
on  of  that  article  of  his  own  dress  would 
affect  the  young  girl  as  the  assumption  of 
the  steel  cap  and  corselet  had  evidently 
affected  him,  and  that  he  would  instantly 
become  as  visible  to  her  as  she  and  her  com- 
panions had  been  to  him.  He  attempted  to 
rise,  but  was  too  late  ;  she  had  evaded  the 
Cicerone  by  ducking,  and,  facing  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  Barbarian,  clapped  the  hat  on 
her  head.  He  saw  the  swift  light  of  con- 
sciousness, of  astonishment,  of  sudden  fear 
spring  into  her  eyes !  She  shrieked,  he 
started,  struggled,  and  awoke  ! 


282     THE   GHOSTS   OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE. 

But  what  was  this  !  He  was  alone  in  the 
moonlit  gallery,  certainly ;  the  ghastly  fig- 
ures in  their  outlandish  garb  were  gone  ;  he 
was  awake  and  in  his  senses,  but,  in  this 
first  flash  of  real  consciousness,  he  could 
have  sworn  that  something  remained  ! 
Something  terror-stricken,  and  retreating 
even  then  before  him,  —  something  of  the 
world,  modern,  —  and,  even  as  he  gazed, 
vanishing  through  the  gallery  door  with  the 
material  flash  and  rustle  of  silk. 

He  walked  quietly  to  the  door.  It  was 
open.  Ah  !  No  doubt  he  had  forgotten  to 
shut  it  fast ;  a  current  of  air  or  a  sudden 
draught  had  opened  it.  That  noise  had 
awakened  him.  More  than  that,  remember- 
ing the  lightning  flash  of  dream  conscious- 
ness, it  had  been  the  cause  of  his  dream. 
Yet,  for  a  few  moments  he  listened  atten- 
tively. 

What  might  have  been  the  dull  reverber- 
ation of  a  closing  door  in  the  direction  of 
the  housekeeper's  room,  on  the  lower  story, 
was  all  he  heard.  He  smiled,  for  even  that, 
natural  as  it  might  be,  was  less  distinct  and 
real  than  his  absurd  vision. 

Nevertheless  the  next  afternoon  he  con- 
cluded to  walk  over  to  Audley  Friars  for 


THE   GHOSTS  OF  STUKELEY  CASTLE.    283 

his  Christmas  dinner.  Its  hospitable  mas- 
ter greeted  him  cordially. 

"  But  do  you  know,  my  dear  fellow,"  he 
said,  when  they  were  alone  for  a  moment, 
"  if  you  had  n't  come  by  yourself  I  'd  have 
sent  over  there  for  you.  The  fact  is  that 

A wrote  to  us  that  you  were  down  at 

Stukeley  alone,  ghost-hunting  or  something 
of  that  sort,  and  I  'm  afraid  it  leaked  out 
among  the  young  people  of  our  party.  Two 
of  our  girls  —  I  sha  n't  tell  you  which  — 
stole  over  there  last  night  to  give  you  a 
start  of  some  kind.  They  did  n't  see  you 
at  all,  but,  by  Jove,  it  seems  they  got  the 
biggest  kind  of  a  fright  themselves,  for  they 
declare  that  something  dreadful  in  armor, 
you  know,  was  sitting  in  the  gallery.  Aw- 
fully good  joke,  was  n't  it  ?  Of  course  you 
did  n't  see  anything,  —  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  Barbarian,  discreetly. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


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